


Stormrider

by EldritchSandwich



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Casual Sex, Childhood Friends, Chunky Sandwich, Espionage, F/F, Gen, Rivalry, Secret Marriage, Seduction, Sisters, Spoilers, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7143914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchSandwich/pseuds/EldritchSandwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of vignettes focusing on the relationships between the women of the Stormrider Legacy, ranging from rekindled friendship to professional rivalry to estranged sisterhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue and Orange

**Author's Note:**

> The original characters in this story are my Star Wars: The Old Republic characters, because I'm that massive and egotistical a nerd. If you ever see any of them out and about on the Begeren Colony server, say hi.
> 
> This story also contains some minor, vague spoilers for the Jedi Knight, Jedi Consular, and Bounty Hunter class storylines in The Old Republic, but nothing that will ruin your day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've now added character portraits to the first three chapters, just to help people visualize the characters/tell them apart because everybody has the same name. Let me know if it doesn't work.

Metasi Stormrider was trying to sleep.

She'd earned it. She'd fought her way through backstabbing Hutts and cheating Mandalorians and all the very best scum the galaxy had to offer and emerged as the champion of the Great Hunt, the most dangerous bounty hunter of them all, contracts and challenges and awestruck dancing girls thrown at her feet. She deserved to be allowed to sleep. What was more, Mako was scanning the holonet for new bounties, 2V-R8 had been thoroughly informed that he could very easily be switched off if he kept interrupting, and even Gault was keeping himself busy. So there was nothing preventing her from sleeping.

And yet she wasn't sleeping. She was lying on her bunk in her underwear, staring at the ceiling.

She sat up with a sigh, batting a lock of copper hair out of her eye. In the process her hand brushed against the implant bolted to her cheek to hold the scarred left side of her face together, and she flinched. It didn't matter how many years it had been, she always flinched.

She glanced down at the athletic body under the thin undergarments speculatively; maybe she was just horny. She hadn't been with a woman since before she landed on Hutta, and the aforementioned dancing girls weren't good for much more than hanging off her giggling and generally making her even more frustrated. She toyed with the idea of taking matters into her own hands for a few minutes, then slid off the bed with a disgusted groan and grabbed for her pants. Maybe Mako would offer a momentary distraction.

But then, Metasi grumbled to herself, the little slicer's innocent teasing and oblivious closeness only made things worse.

She was on the bridge, presumably still mentally paging through bounties, and looked up with a smile when Metasi entered. "Hey, boss. Can't sleep?"

Metasi scowled. "That's one way to put it." She dropped into the seat at the navigation console with a sigh. "Anything good?"

"Oh, a few Imperial bounties. One Hutt who apparently ran off with a noble's wife, don't ask me how that works."

"Great. Fun."

"Yeah. Then there was, um..." Mako cleared her throat. Metasi sat up.

"What?"

"Boss...you don't have any family, do you? Maybe a sister?"

Metasi blinked slowly. "Not that I'm aware of..."

"It's just...there's this bounty for a Jedi Knight. Supposedly she's been causing a lot of trouble for Imperial holdings on Nar Shaddaa. But her name's...Tereis Stormrider."

Metasi froze. "Her name's what?"

"Stormrider comma Tereis. Knight of the Republic, last seen on Nar...oh, wait. She's Cathar. So that's got to be a coincidence, right?" Mako turned back to find the redheaded cyborg still frozen in place. "Boss?"

"I'll take it."

"What?"

"The bounty. I'll take it."

* * *

Tereis Stormrider was trying to concentrate.

Nar Shaddaa was very emphatically not her kind of planet. Or moon, whatever. Corruption was the rule, a Jedi was the exception, and she had to share the streets with Sith and just trust that the cunning, greedy neutrality of the Hutts was enough to keep a brawl from breaking out on the Promenade. Of course, down in the oily industrial underbelly of the Smugglers' Moon, she and her Padawan were currently about as far away from that tentative safety as one could get.

"I still can't understand that girl. Why would someone with a loving family and everything she could possibly want willingly join those slavers?"

They'd been tasked with breaking up a slaver gang, with the added wrinkle that one of its lieutenants was the daughter of a prominent Republic businessman. Tereis had managed to convince her to go home, if only barely, but her gang leader boyfriend hadn't been so reasonable. Now all that was left was to return to the Promenade and report that the gang was in tatters and the girl was on her way home.

Kira snorted. "Corsol might be a lot of things, but I don't necessarily think 'loving' is one of them. She probably just wanted attention."

"Mm."

Kira tilted her head and turned back to face her only slightly older Master. "Are you okay?"

Tereis shook her head, shaggy brown hair rustling like a mane. "Fine. I just...thought I felt something. Something familiar."

"Trouble?"

Tereis' tawny, spotted face scrunched up in thought. "No. I don't know. Maybe. We should keep moving."

"Fine with me. I'm more than ready to get back up to—"

A soft hiss of air was the only warning before Kira cried out, collapsing to the street in convulsions. Tereis saw the silver dart in her chest and batted it away with the Force as her senses expanded and she drew her sabers, a cool blue counterpoint to the gaudy pink and orange neon. She had just started to turn toward their attacker when she felt the barrel of a blaster press into her hair.

"Stop." Tereis froze. She could easily have spun around and disarmed the woman—because that's what the voice in her ear seemed to belong to—but she wasn't confident enough in her ability to do so without either literally disarming her or taking a blaster bolt to the head for her trouble. She extinguished her sabers. "Take two steps forward, then turn around. Slowly."

Tereis complied, subtly turning her head to glance down at Kira long enough to see that she was conscious, on her knees, and had a second pistol pointed at her. Tereis took a deep breath as she turned, which was fortunate; as soon as she saw the face looking back at her, she promptly forgot how.

The two young women just stared at each other, Tereis' wide yellow eyes staring into the silvery ones of their attacker.

Brown. They used to be brown.

Her lips began to tremble. "M...Taz?"

The redheaded human smirked, but it was a smirk that made her look like she was about to cry. "Hey, Rei. Long time no see."

As Metasi holstered her weapons, Tereis could only shake her head numbly. "I...I never...how..." In an attempt to tear herself away from her eyes, Tereis was drawn down to the mass of scar tissue and cybernetics that now made up the left side of the redhead's face. "What...when did this—"

She didn't even realize she'd been reaching out her hand until Metasi's caught it, just an inch from touching the pitted skin. "A few years after you left," Metasi murmured, and Tereis winced.

"Taz...Metasi. I..."

As she trailed off, Kira cleared her throat, drawing both women's sheepish attention down to her. "So, not to interrupt, but does this mean I can get up now?" Tereis winced again and hurried to help a skeptically pouting Kira to her feet. "Thanks. So. My incredible Force powers are telling me that you two have met before."

Tereis pursed her lips, momentarily thankful for the thin layer of tan fur that covered her blush. "Metasi, this is Kira Carsen. My Padawan. Kira, this is Metasi Stormrider. My..." Metasi and Kira both raised their eyebrows expectantly, and Tereis sighed. "My...wife."

Kira's eyes went wide. "Wait, your...what? Your...how is that even possible?"

"It wasn't exactly a traditional marriage," Metasi muttered archly, and Tereis frowned.

"She was eight. I was ten. It was...sentimental. But...we exchanged vows and I took her name."

Kira nodded slowly. "You know I always thought it was a little weird that a Cathar had a Basic name. But you two, what...grew up together?"

"On Ord Mantell," Tereis answered reluctantly. "On the streets of Caspar. But then when I was twelve a visiting Jedi felt the Force in me, and—"

"And she left. Without even telling me."

Tereis flinched. "I looked for you. Taz, I swear I looked for you but—"

"You left! You left me out of nowhere, with nothing, do you know how many people I had to talk to to find out you were with a Jedi and not just dead?"

Tereis swallowed. "What...what did you do?"

Metasi's silver eyes, new but heartbreakingly familiar, turned hard. "You know what I did."

Tereis crumpled like she was the one who'd been hit by the shock dart. The one thing they'd promised each other they'd never do, no matter how much they had to steal or salvage, no matter how hungry they got...she felt like she was going to be sick.

Metasi either didn't notice or didn't care. She just waved casually at her scarred face. "Course, sometimes men with blasters don't feel like they need to pay. Toss-up whether I would have bled out or starved to death first if this old merc hadn't found me. Got me fixed up, taught me to shoot, in...exchange." Tereis winced again, but Metasi shrugged. "Best deal I ever made. At least now I'm in a job where I get to shoot back."

"You're a mercenary?"

"Bounty hunter. Technically. Really it's all pretty much the same thing, I guess."

Tereis' grip on her sabers tightened. "And is that why you're here? To collect?"

And just like that, Metasi's glare collapsed. "Aw hell, Rei, come on. I just...I wanted to see you."

Tereis pursed her lips, rough tongue flicking out nervously. "So did I."

"Please tell me you two are about to kiss."

That broke both women out of their reverie long enough to glare at Kira, Metasi's expression accompanied by a blush and a blaster pistol in the face. Kira threw her hands up.

"Whoa, hey, joking. Let's get back to the part where you're older than her." Tereis frowned even as Kira and Metasi both started to grin. "I mean, I honestly couldn't have called that. You're just so..."

As she tried to think of a tactful adjective for her master, Metasi just chuckled. "Yeah, she's always been a tiny little kitten."

The petite Cathar scowled. "Don't call me that." Her eyes slid toward Kira, who was watching the entire exchange with a sly smile. Tereis cleared her throat. "Kira, why don't you go ahead to the shuttleport? I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say. Master."

When the one redhead was gone, Tereis reluctantly turned back to face the other. When she did, it was to find Metasi pulling aside her scarf and reaching under the neck of her fibrous body armor. When she pulled out the necklace, Tereis' heart skipped a beat.

It was nothing fancy; they'd had to make them themselves, so it was really just a length of braided scrap cloth with a little piece of white beachvalve shell hanging from it, the letter trill painstakingly engraved on its surface. Metasi was looking at her, eyes wide and vulnerable, even hopeful. Tereis took a deep breath, licked her lips, and reached beneath the folds of the abbreviated blue robes tailored to her acrobatic fighting style to extract a matching necklace, this one engraved with a mern. She looked back up to find Metasi smiling at her.

"I thought Jedi weren't supposed to have attachments."

Tereis swallowed. "I haven't proven very good at that part."

Metasi just nodded. "I miss you," she said simply, her voice almost cracking.

"I miss you too."

Metasi licked her lips. Stars, Tereis had forgotten how heartbreaking nervousness looked on that strong, confident, beautiful face. "Do you remember our wedding? When we..."

Metasi trailed off, and Tereis blushed under her fur again. They'd reasoned, with the true innocence of childhood, that in order to really get married they had to end their vows with a kiss. So they'd knelt there in the sand at sunrise, just the two of them, bridal pendants on each other's necks and vows of eternal faithfulness in each other's ears, and Metasi had tipped her head down. The kiss had only lasted for a few seconds, but it had seemed like hours, like they were teetering on the edge of something massive. Then Tereis had opened her mouth ever so slightly and let out the tiniest sigh, and they'd both pulled back, cheeks on fire. They'd never had the courage to speak of it again.

Until now. Until Tereis came back from her wandering to find that Metasi had closed the distance between them, their bodies pressed together, fibermesh and plasteel against silk and fur. Metasi tipped her head down.

This time, the kiss lasted a lot longer than a few seconds. And this time, when Tereis opened her mouth and sighed, it just made Metasi pull her closer.

When they finally pulled away Metasi's hands were in Tereis' hair and Tereis' were on Metasi's face, stroking the scars and cybernetics of the left cheek every bit as tenderly as the smooth, freckled skin on the right. Metasi's head turned to the left to place a kiss on the Cathar's palm, and Tereis shuddered, then swallowed resolutely.

"We...we can't."

"I know."

"Jedi aren't allowed to have these kinds of attachments—"

"And even if they were I make most of my money from the Empire. I know. Doesn't change the way I've felt about you since I was eight." Tereis let her eyes slip shut as Metasi's cool forehead pressed against hers. "Even if this is the only time we ever do this," she murmured, "even if we never see each other again...I don't ever want to stop being your wife."

Tereis' hands lowered from Metasi's face, the right reaching out to take hold of Metasi's necklace and the left nervously fingering her own. She took a deep breath.

"I promise to help you, and to stay with you, and that I'll never ever hurt you, and that I'll be with you forever and ever for a hundred millions years until I fall down dead."

Metasi's beautiful lips split into a brilliant grin. "I promise to help you, and stay with you, and never ever hurt you, and if I ever make you cry then may a razoron sneak up behind me and swallow me whole."

Tereis smiled sadly. "And even if I can't do all that...that doesn't mean I don't mean it."

Metasi's hands reached up to cup hers, then fell away. Vows thereby renewed, both women pulled away, Tereis staring down at the street and Metasi off at the horizon. Eventually Tereis sniffed.

"I should go. Kira's waiting."

Metasi just nodded. "Yeah, I should get back. My crew was worried enough I decided to go off alone, no telling what they'll do if I take too long."

"Your crew? So you have...you're not...alone."

Metasi smiled faintly. "Yeah. I've got people. Maybe even friends."

Tereis nodded. "Good."

Metasi took a step back. "Maybe we'll see each other again."

Tereis nodded carefully. "Maybe after the war."

"You really think this war's ever going to end?"

Tereis frowned. "All we can do is hope." She cleared her throat and stepped back, in the direction of the shuttleport and her waiting Padawan. "Goodbye, Mrs. Stormrider."

Metasi smiled. "Goodbye, Mrs. Stormrider."

Tereis turned and began to walk. When she reached the corner, she turned and looked back one last time. "Goodbye, Taz," she whispered. And she was gone.

Metasi stood, leaning against the railing, staring out at the garish, glittering skyline without really seeing it. Nar Shaddaa wasn't really her kind of planet anyway. Or moon, whatever. She would have preferred somewhere with beaches. She glanced down the street that led to the shuttleport one last time, then turned to walk in the opposite direction.

"Goodbye, Rei."


	2. Red and Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've now added character portraits to the first three chapters, just to help people visualize the characters/tell them apart because everybody has the same name. Let me know if it doesn't work.

Varidia was trying to meditate.

After everything that had happened—Master Yuon's illness, hunting down the mysterious 'plaguemaster'—she needed a little peace. Unfortunately what she got instead was Qyzen standing in the hatchway clearing his throat, which coming from a Trandoshan sounded more like a battlecry.

[Small hunter, is message from Republic SIS,] Qyzen growled. [Need help of clever hunter. I have here.]

Varidia sighed—perhaps a bit over-dramatically if she were being honest—and opened her eyes.

"All right. I suppose we'd better see what it is."

She stood, smoothed out her robes, and reached for the datapad, her other hand idly massaging one of her lekku; she could feel a headache coming on, and that had always done the trick ever since she was a little girl.

The message was indeed from the Strategic Information Service, though as befitting a communique from spies it was relatively opaque. All it contained was the location of a dead drop on Alderaan containing a set of Republic military security codes, a description of the party who'd be taking possession, and what to do when it was time for the handoff. Still, it was an easy assignment, it would apparently help the Republic immeasurably, and she was already en route to Alderaan so there was no good reason not to do it.

Perhaps that wasn't a very good attitude for a Jedi to take with the future of the Republic supposedly at risk, but Varidia had been feeling a distinct listlessness lately. She had never exactly had trouble reigning in her emotions, something for which her Jedi instructors had always praised her, but as her search dragged on she couldn't help a growing sense of frustration. Maybe she didn't need to meditate. Maybe she just needed to eat better, or get more sleep. Maybe she needed something else entirely, but if she did she had no idea what it was.

She shook her head. Meditation obviously wasn't working. This time would be better spent making herself presentable for the moneyed, titled bigots she'd no doubt have to endure on Alderaan. As she stripped unselfconsciously out of her plain robes and attempted to find something nicer, the young Twi'lek couldn't fully suppress a sigh.

* * *

Jainen was trying to strategize.

This assignment was last minute to an almost literal degree, Keeper simply calling her in the middle of her pre-existing work with House Thul on Alderaan. But that was his prerogative, of course, and at least the mission was straightforward: a Jedi named Varidia was currently on Alderaan and in possession of a set of Republic security codes awaiting delivery to an unspecified pro-Republic Alderaanian collaborator. Jainen's mission was to use a cover identity to infiltrate House Organa, identify the Jedi, and then take whatever steps she deemed necessary to enter this Varidia's room, slice her secure datapad, and upload the codes to House Thul instead.

"You sure you don't want me to tag along?" Kaliyo asked as she idly half-watched Jainen change. The human agent merely shook her head as she squirmed her way into the tight, revealing party dress designed to make her look like a spoiled, giggling Alderaan society girl.

"No," Jainen said as she adjusted the flowing black wig into place over her cropped brown hair. "I hope I won't offend you by suggesting that deep cover among the Alderaanian nobility might not be the best use of your talents."

The mercenary enforcer just laughed. "Yeah, you know me: easily offended and a big fan of stuffy rich idiots."

"Precisely." Jainen turned dramatically and flared her hip, showing off her transformation from no-nonsense Cipher agent to all-nonsense party girl. Kaliyo shot her a smirk and a thumbs-up, and Jainen nodded resolutely and cracked her neck. "Right. Showtime."

* * *

Infiltrating House Organa proved to be almost laughably easy; it turned out that when an Alderaanian noble house was having a huge party, showing up dressed like a giddy socialite was enough to get you in the door. Or rather, in the unsecured fourth story window, but once you were inside no one looked at you twice.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Plenty of people looked at her twice; it just wasn't with suspicion.

Jainen was still vaguely uncomfortable with the idea of being attractive. Her appearance was perfectly suited to intelligence work, i.e. singularly unremarkable: average height, average build, hair, skin, and eyes all various shades of brown. And every other aspect of it, from her short disguise-friendly hairstyle to her exercise regimen to her lack of cosmetics, was designed to make her easier to overlook, to ignore, and to forget.

And now here she was, trying to attract attention. Damn undercover work.

She found her target at the bar, apparently not drinking so much as using the constrained geography as an excuse to be left alone. Varidia, no last name, a Twi'lek with leaf-green skin, a slender physique shrouded in elegantly layered robes, and a youthful, freckled, and somewhat sad-looking face. Said face turned to her as she slid down against the bar, giving this Varidia her broadest, most simpering smile as well as her broadest, most simpering Alderaanian accent.

"Oh wow, are you really a Jedi? That's so amazing!"

The Twi'lek was mostly successful in fighting a scowl, but Jainen had plenty of experience reading faces. Besides, there was no hiding that put-upon sigh. "Yes. Yes I am."

Jainen leaned closer. "Oh, I can't believe it! I can't believe I'm meeting a real Jedi! Oh, sorry! I'm being, like, so so rude! I'm Suel. Suel Organa."

"Varidia." The Twi'lek was still mostly managing to keep herself from frowning. What she wasn't able to stop, however, was the way her large brown eyes flicked down to the cleavage revealed by Jainen's insubstantial dress. That unexpected tell made Jainen metaphorically sit up straighter even as she literally leaned forward even more, shaking her hair out to draw Varidia's eyes down her chest again. It worked, and Jainen smirked to herself as a plan started to take shape.

She'd been called on to seduce targets before, and had on occasion used those skills independently to take a troublesome male threat out of the equation, but she rarely got to employ them against another woman and she'd certainly never had the distinction of seducing a Jedi. Well, perhaps tonight was the night.

She licked her lips in a show of nerves, an exaggerated glance from left to right as she leaned closer. "Hey, can I ask you a question that might seem kind of weird?"

"I...I guess." She was already nervous. Good.

"Is it true that Jedi aren't allowed to...you know...have fun? Like...private fun? With like, anyone?"

Varidia pursed her lips and swallowed awkwardly. Oh, this was going to be too easy. "That's...a popular misconception. Jedi are forbidden from forming emotional attachments that can lead to bias. But if there is no attachment, if the...relationship is casual and temporary, there's no rule against a Jedi having...fun."

Jainen grinned slyly. Only part of her excitement was an act. "So...if someone like, hypothetically, had always had a fantasy about going to bed with a Jedi, and then met one who she thought was really cute, and who she was just drooling for the chance to do absolutely everything to..." Varidia sucked in a breath as Jainen's fingers teasingly grazed the tip of one of her head-tails. "There wouldn't be anything stopping them from going up to the Jedi's room and..."

Varidia swallowed. Jainen declared victory.

* * *

They were on each other as soon as the door sealed behind them, kissing and stripping, tearing each other's clothes off to get at the hot flesh underneath; Jainen had never been with a Twi'lek before, and she'd had no idea how smooth the green skin under her fingers would be. She was so caught up in it that she didn't realize the tactical error she'd made until Varidia's hands were in her hair.

"Are you wearing a wig?"

Fortunately, thinking on her feet was part of the job description. She reached and pulled it off without a second thought. "My daddy totally freaked out when I cut it, now he makes me wear this stupid thing," she explained against Varidia's lips.

"I like it short," the Jedi breathed into her mouth. As if to prove it, Varidia threaded her fingers through the short strands for leverage, and Jainen was very suddenly thinking off her feet. As the naked Jedi crawled astride her hips, Jainen reached up for her waist with a genuine grin.

"Show me how you use the Force, Master Jedi."

Varidia sighed a sigh that was much less put-upon than the one she'd let out when they met. "Anything for a loyal ally of the Republic."

That was the last coherent word either of them said for the rest of the night.

* * *

Jainen woke up first. She always woke up first. She didn't even have to go furtively hunting for the datapad while trying not to wake up her bedmate; it was lying on the end table, right next to the bed. She could have easily drugged the Jedi and done it last night, but she was glad she hadn't; not only would seducing a Jedi be quite the point of professional braggadocio, if she were being honest it had also been a rather satisfying physical encounter. Very satisfying, in fact. She attached her spike, waited for the files to upload, then pulled it out and slipped it back into its place in the gold inlay pattern of her dress. She turned back just as Varidia was stirring, and leaned down to greet her with a kiss and a smile.

"Morning."

Varidia hummed, blinking sleepily. "Good morning."

"I have to confess something." Varidia's eyebrows rose, and Jainen smiled sheepishly. "I didn't actually expect a Jedi to be any good at that sort of thing."

That earned her a look that she would have classified as smug satisfaction if it had been on anyone other than a Jedi. "Are you sure you're thoroughly convinced? We might just have time for a second round..."

Jainen giggled vacuously. "Don't you mean a fifth?" She shook her head. "That's really...really tempting. But I like, totally have to get going. My dad'll go thermal if I don't check in."

Varidia waved a sleepy, dismissive hand. "Oh, he won't mind. He'll be busy for a while with all the viruses that were spliced into the codes you stole."

Jainen sat up, suddenly very awake, to find her smirking bedmate looking the same. "What?"

Varidia's smile, true to Jedi form, managed to be simultaneously serene and infuriating. "You're very sure of your skills, aren't you? Or did you think that Jedi were incapable of subterfuge as well as fun? Agent."

Jainen could only swallow, silently conceding the point; an inability to accept harsh realities had never been one of her faults. "Well then," she offered, dropping the affected accent for her comfortable Imperial tones. "What do we do now?"

"I suppose we could fight to the death. But we're both naked and unarmed and I have the Force, so that strikes me as a little unfair."

Jainen thought briefly of the shivs concealed in the impractical heels of her shoes and the flashbang disguised as a hair clip attached to her wig, but she didn't argue the point. They'd both been flung far enough from the bed last night that she doubted she'd be able to get to them before the Jedi sensed her intention and merely Force-lifted her out of commission. Training to resist the Jedi's mental trickery was one thing, but the practical laws of physics were quite another.

Besides, she wasn't really interested in ruining what had so far been a civil, even pleasant encounter with violence.

"So you're simply going to let me go back to my superiors to destroy your Republic another day?"

"Yes," Varidia said simply. "On one condition." Jainen bristled; here it was, the compromise. She was fully prepared to spit in the face of whatever humiliating, career-ending 'favor' this Jedi was going to ask, but Varidia met her gaze frankly. "Tell me why you serve the Empire."

Jainen blinked in thought. Could it be that no one had ever asked her that before? She'd told Keeper she joined Imperial Intelligence to help protect the common people of the Empire, but he'd taken for granted that the Empire was best equipped to do that. She considered how to articulate her answer as Varidia sat, big brown eyes watching her patiently. Finally, Jainen licked her lips.

"You were born into the Jedi, correct?"

Varidia tilted her head, understandably curious about the digression but willing to play along. "Not quite. But I was too young to remember anything of my life before I was taken in by the Order. Why?"

"Because I wasn't born into the Empire. I was born on a world where the only law was that a man with a gun or a knife could take whatever he wanted. By the time the Empire came, I had a knife of my own..." She trailed off and shook her head, electing not to share the details. Mercifully, Varidia didn't press her. "The Empire represents order. And I know all too well which kind of people tends to suffer in the absence of order."

She looked up to find Varidia smiling fondly. It was an expression she hadn't seen, and she grudgingly admitted it made the normally melancholy Jedi look rather...well, adorable.

"I think we have more in common than you might imagine. Growing up in the Order I was...insulated from many of the prejudices of the wider galaxy. When I finally got out and saw how non-humans were treated..." She turned that small smile on Jainen. "That order you talk about isn't really any kinder to aliens than its absence, is it?"

Again, Jainen didn't argue the point. She made a point of not making distinctions between Imperial citizens on the basis of species, but she also knew she wasn't exactly in the majority. Instead she bowed her head politely, turning the motion into one that allowed her to scoop up her discarded dress from the floor.

"Well, Master Jedi. This has been an enlightening encounter."

Varidia just nodded, still watching as she dressed, though whether out of aesthetic appreciation or tactical mistrust Jainen couldn't say.

She slipped back into her impractical shoes, not even thinking about going for the shivs—well, not seriously—then stood and turned to the door. Before she opened it, she paused. "The next time we meet, I won't stop myself from killing you if necessary."

Varidia nodded, melancholy once again. "Likewise."

Jainen nodded back, a show of mutual respect, admiration, and acknowledgement that just as last night didn't change the politics involved, the politics didn't change the tantalizing memories of last night.

"Master Jedi."

"Agent."

Jainen walked out, leaving the naked, serenely-smiling Jedi who understood her better than she had any right to behind her. Turning your back on your opposite number was a risk, of course. But after all, what good was living if you didn't take a little risk now and then?

* * *

Varidia arose from her meditation feeling refreshed. Her headache was gone, her malaise too, and...well, she was self-aware enough not to try to claim it was because of the meditation.

There was nothing to be ashamed of; she'd done her duty, she'd done so without a drop of blood spilled, and well...as to the act itself, it had been more than satisfactory. Though she hadn't known it beforehand, it had been exactly what she needed, and only a fool refused to listen to the truth of her own body. She stretched idly, then turned as Qyzen cleared his throat from the hatchway.

[Small hunter, message for you. Do not know who from.]

She nodded her thanks and took the datapad he offered. The message was short, text only.

 _To: V_  
_From: J_  
_You are a singular opponent, Master Jedi. I look forward to our next game._

Varidia couldn't stop herself from smiling. Emotional attachment was strictly forbidden. But the occasional deadly, sexually-charged professional rivalry? Well that was just the kind of thing that made life interesting.


	3. Yellow and Purple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've now added character portraits to the first three chapters, just to help people visualize the characters/tell them apart because everybody has the same name. Let me know if it doesn't work.

Avarys was trying to focus.

Rage was what made a good Sith, of course, but it was useless if you didn't channel it properly. Hot rage was messy and imprecise, just as dangerous to the wielder as her victim. The rage she was seeking was cold and ruthless and lethal. But not too lethal...this one was going to suffer first.

"My Lord? Did you hear me? We've confirmed the ship's registry, and Lord Zash assured the captain that you'd want to be involved in the interrogation, so—"

"I heard you the first time," she snapped at the young deck officer standing in the open hatch of her temporary quarters, fixing the girl with flashing green eyes behind heavy black and purple makeup. "I am not an idiot!"

"Of course not! I...I'm sorry, My Lord." The girl looked like she was about to cry, and Avarys immediately felt annoyed by her lapse in self control. Some argued that taking your frustrations out on your inferiors was another mark of a true Sith, but Avarys found it vulgar, common. And that was one of the many things she'd sworn to herself she'd never be again.

"Inform the captain that I will be handling the interrogation personally."

"Yes, My Lord." The girl bowed and hurriedly excused herself. Avarys didn't even register her departure; her rage was sharpening to a fierce, white-hot point. And finally, after ten long years, she was going to have a chance to put it right where she wanted it.

* * *

Amathys Stormrider was trying to escape.

It wasn't likely she was actually going to manage it—Imperial holding cells were tricky enough to break out of even when all her gear hadn't been taken—but still, it was the principle of the thing. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.

Typical of the Empire, really; there she was, having finally gotten her ship back and taking the long way to Taris just to stay out of the way of anyone else who might want to screw her over, when some Imperial cruiser going who knows where bumped into them and decided to start shooting. Now her ship was impounded—again—Corso was in a cell somewhere, and she was sitting here waiting to be tortured. Some days it just didn't pay to take off.

The door to the cell hissed open, and any illusions Amathys might have had about it being her handiwork were shattered when a figure in tight black robes swept imperiously inside. Since she was kneeling next to the console, Amathys had to look up to see the Sith woman's face. When she did, her brain stopped working.

"I...what...Sis?"

Avarys' familiar face twisted into a scowl, and suddenly Amathys' body stopped working too, contorting in agony as her sister's outstretched hands shrouded her in arcs of purple lightning. When she started to scream, Avarys relented, letting her sister drop, shaking, to the floor. "Don't ever call me that," she hissed.

No one would have said they were identical. They had been once, perhaps, but there were plenty of differences now: Amathys was several kilos heavier as a consequence of indulging in her newfound freedom, for starters; she still wore her straight black hair long and swept back, while Avarys had shaved hers off completely; her cosmetics tended more toward the traditionally glamorous than the melodramatically purple. Most importantly, however, the Imperial slave brand that was now nothing more than a faint scar on Amathys' cheek still sat proud and angry on her sister's face.

"I thought you were dead," Amathys gasped, shaking with tears of pain and confusion. "I thought...but...you're a Sith! You can't be a Sith! How are you a Sith?"

"I earned it," Avarys growled. "Just like I earned my freedom. But you wouldn't know anything about that. You stole your freedom, just like you undoubtedly stole that filthy ship and your little boytoy and that ridiculous, fanciful name."

Amathys rolled back to her feet. The name was true enough—'Stormrider' was the name of a young merc she'd met in a bar and suited her heroic image—but the rest needed to be answered.

"Do you think I wanted them to split us up? I wanted to get us both out, after I escaped I tried to find you, but—"

"Quiet! Spare me whatever lies let you sleep at night. I'm only here to learn what your little ship is doing in Imperial space."

Amathys blinked in shock. Surely she couldn't be serious? "Si...Av. I can't...talk to me. It's been ten years, we're not going to pretend nothing happened, just talk to me!"

Avarys set her lips in a tight line. "What is your final destination?"

"Avarys, come on..."

"Are you trespassing in Imperial space on the orders of the Republic government?"

"Just stop, just—"

"Is the Republic paying you to map hyperspace routes through Imperial space?"

"Avarys, just talk to me!"

" **AND SAY WHAT?!?** " Avarys screamed. "How every nightmare in my life got worse after you left? How I couldn't be an ornament and an oddity if I was just one twin, so they turned me into a real slave? Do you want me to tell you all the disgusting, humiliating, agonizing things my masters made me do? How many times I tried to cut myself open so I wouldn't have to wake up in hell every single morning? No. No, you were too busy running off to the stars, getting fat and happy while I burned!"

Amathys screamed as the lightning coursed through her body again, sending her to her knees even as she sought out her sister's blazing eyes. "I love you!" she ground out through clenched teeth. "I looked for you! Every...every credit I made working on ships I spent trying to find you!"

"Stop lying to me!"

"I found your last master, Lord Eoros! I tried to buy you, but he said you were gone, that some Sith got angry and dragged you off to be executed! I only stopped looking because I thought you were dead!"

"Stop! Shut up! Stop! Lying!" Her voice had been stripped of its posh Sith affect, just like her sister's had of its swaggering Corellian one, to reveal the lower class Imperial accent of their youth. Tears were streaming from Avarys' eyes, and Amathys met them defiantly.

"You're the all-powerful Sith," she croaked. "You really think I'm lying? Read my mind."

Before Amathys could react, her sister screamed, drawing the saberstaff from her sash and wreathing its violet blades in lightning. Amathys barely had time to fear for her life before the saber carved through the control panel behind her and the door shot open. Amathys looked up in shock to find her sister staring at the floor, shaking.

"Av..."

"Get out."

Amathys blinked. "What?"

"Take your crew. Take your ship. And get. Out." Amathys could only stand, watching dumbstruck. When she waited too long, Avarys shrieked and lashed out with her hand, another gout of agonizing lightning throwing her through the open door. "Get out!"

As Amathys picked herself up off the deck, she was finally able to meet her sister's eyes, glistening behind the makeup smearing down her face. "I love you." Amathys pushed herself to her feet and began to run.

"If I ever see you again, I'll kill you!" she growled. Amathys hadn't stopped to listen, and all Avarys could do was scream after her as she dropped to her knees. "I'll kill you! I'll cut out your heart, and I'll shove my hand in the hole and I'll BURN you from the inside! I hate you! I hate you I hate you **I HATE YOU!** "

As her screams echoed down the corridor, Avarys took a breath. This was not weakness. She would never be weak again. Hate made her stronger. Hate made her stronger.

Avarys dropped to her elbows and wept.

Hate made her stronger.


	4. Blue and Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As will become immediately clear, Chapters 4, 5, and 6 take place before the events of the first three chapters. Hopefully it won't be too confusing.

Tereis Stormrider was trying not to cry.

In the moment, with a serene Kel Dor in flowing robes standing over her offering her a purpose and a better life, becoming a Jedi had seemed like such a good idea. But now she was alone in a cold, austere stone cell for her first night in the Enclave, and the reality had begun to catch up with her. Ord Mantell was gone. Everyone she knew: Tavin, Solaris, Aven...Metasi. She'd never see Metasi again. They'd given her Jedi training robes, thick, scratchy ones that rubbed her fur the wrong way, and she reached under the collar for the necklace of white shell that still hung there; they'd let her keep it, they said, because the Jedi didn't have any prohibitions against 'cultural jewelry.' She hadn't told them what it really meant. She wrapped her fingers around the little piece of shell, rocked back and forth on her sleeping mat, and let the tears fall.

This was all a mistake. She was never meant to be a Jedi.

* * *

Varidia was trying to study.

She knew how the other initiates saw her: Varidia the teacher's pet, so stern and studious even for a Jedi. She ignored them. Jedi weren't supposed to smile, and joke, and make friends. They were supposed to embody a set of principles. A code. That meant hard work, meditation, and studying.

At least, it did when one wasn't being distracted by the sound of quiet sobbing echoing from the cell next door.

The initiate's tiny cells were individual, but had no doors; they were all taught that Jedi had nothing to hide from one another, so Varidia didn't hesitate to turn the corner into the cell the sound was coming from. She didn't know the Cathar girl's name, only that she was new to the Order, strong enough in the Force that the Masters were willing to train her despite the fact that she was already twelve, a year older than Varidia. The girl looked up, big golden eyes going wide, and hastily began rubbing the back of her hand against the dark tracks her tears had made in her thin, spotted fur.

"I...I'm sorry, am I making too much noise? I didn't mean to disturb you," the girl hiccuped, and Varidia frowned. "I'm sorry, I'll try to be quiet."

Varidia chewed on her tongue. Technically, the obstacle was removed, then. Unfortunately, there was also the whole compassion thing, and even someone as supposedly unfeeling as Varidia couldn't ignore the quiet sobs of desperation. She stepped into the cell and carefully settled herself on the edge of the girl's sleeping mat.

"Why are you crying?"

The girl swallowed. "I miss my friends."

Varidia frowned again. "I know it's hard, but you're going to have to let go of those attachments if you want to be a Jedi. Master Odan says that attachment leads to the dark side."

The girl looked at her skeptically. "So I can't even have friends now?"

Varidia thought of the other initiates, their laughter and their jokes, and felt a little twinge. That would have been a nice excuse. "No, Jedi can have friends. But...when someone leaves, you have to be willing to let them go. You have to...accept that nothing last forever," she said slowly, trying to remember Master Odan's lectures on emotional incontinence. "If you cling to something, then losing it will make you scared and angry. And that leads to the dark side."

The girl glanced at her again. "I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be a Jedi."

"The Council said you're strong in the Force. I..." Varidia tried to give her an encouraging smile. "I think you'll be a great Jedi."

The girl blinked. "Really?"

Varidia nodded. "Look, I...I could help you, if you want? I can help you study, to catch up to everyone else."

The girl sniffed. "You'd do that?"

"Of course. After all, it's not really fair that you're starting so much later than the rest of us. It's the right thing to do." The girl smiled, and Varidia licked her lips. "And...I guess if you need one...I could be your friend?"

The girl's smile widened. "I'd like that."

Varidia held out her hand. "I'm Varidia."

The girl took it. "I'm Tereis. Tereis Stormrider."

"Do you think you can sleep now?" Tereis nodded, and Varidia stood.

"Welcome to the Jedi Order, Initiate Stormrider," she said stiffly, but with a smile. Tereis smiled back.

"Thank you, Initiate Varidia."

As Varidia headed back to her cell, she couldn't help smiling. If she could just get her attachments under control, Tereis might actually make a decent Knight. And even if she couldn't, well...

For the first time, Varidia had a friend. And that wasn't nothing.


	5. Red and Purple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As will become immediately clear, Chapters 4, 5, and 6 take place before the events of the first three chapters. Hopefully it won't be too confusing.

Jainen was trying to relax.

It was easier said than done; the Black Talon was a comfortable enough ship, as Imperial Naval vessels went, but after their confrontation with the Brentaal Star the entire crew was on edge. Well, what was left of the crew; after that Sith had killed the captain, the bridge crew had turned on each other and cut their effective complement in half. Not that that was any of her business. At least she'd managed to convince the ice cold woman to bring the traitor back alive.

Now Kaliyo was doubtlessly off drinking with the marines, leaving Jainen in their guest quarters to brush down her uniform, polish her boots, break down and clean her rifle: the same mindless routine she always used to try to relax and center herself after a mission went sideways. She was in the process of reassembling her weapon when the door chime drew her attention.

She opened the door, and found herself face to face with...that thing. The Sith had called it 'Dashade,' but she didn't know whether that was its species or its name. She'd have to look that up. It glared down at her like it was thinking about eating her, and she tried not to betray the cold spike of fear that went down her back. "Yes?"

[My mistress will speak with you,] it hissed, and Jainen couldn't help but make note of the phrasing: not a request, not even an order, more like an inevitability. She cleared her throat.

"Yes, of course. I'll see her presently."

The thing said nothing else, didn't even give any indication that it had heard except to turn and leave. Jainen shook her head as she hurriedly began to pull her uniform back on over her regulation undergarments. This Sith could easily have used the ship's comm, but she obviously preferred the intimidation factor associated with sending her pet. Jainen shook her head.

Bloody Sith and their bloody mind games.

* * *

Avarys was trying to look on the bright side.

That was unusual for her, but she was in a good mood, relatively speaking. What had initially promised to be an uneventful flight had instead become an opportunity to punish not one, but two traitors to the Empire. She'd no doubt increased her standing—Lord Zash had already sent a message offering her congratulations—and quite possibly made some powerful allies.

The chime on the door to her meager quarters sounded, and she smiled to herself: speaking of potential allies...or traitors. "Enter."

The door hissed open to reveal the woman who'd helped her take the Brentaal Star: an Intelligence agent, judging from the uniform, fit and handsome in a forgettable sort of way, another fine example of the square-jawed propriety of Imperial grunts. Avarys had been having fun manipulating them since before she even became Sith.

"Come have a drink with me, Agent," she said without preamble, and the woman nodded stiffly.

"Yes, my Lord."

Avarys poured two tall, slender glasses of...whatever it was. One of the crew, an engineer, she thought, had brought it by with the compliments of the other survivors. He was handsome and square-jawed too, and the half-scared, half-aroused look in his eyes when he delivered it had suggested what he hoped would happen. She'd taken the bottle and closed the door in his face.

Avarys took a sip, finding the beverage rather too sweet for her liking, and watched as the agent did the same. "We seem to approach problems quite differently, Agent. I trust that won't be an issue in the future."

"Of course not, my Lord," the woman said without missing a beat. Avarys smiled.

"Good. Because I could think of quite a few uses for an amenable contact in Imperial Intelligence, just as I'm sure you could imagine the benefits of working with an ambitious, well-connected Sith."

The woman nodded. "As you say, my Lord."

Avarys finished her drink, but didn't pour another. She set the glass down by the bottle and draped herself comfortably along the back of the scratchy couch that took up half of the small quarters. The agent's quick glance down at the corset that made up the upper portion of her outfit didn't escape Avarys' notice; she normally preferred men, in so far as she preferred anything, but she couldn't help wondering what would happen if she ordered the young Intelligence agent into bed. She pushed the thought aside for the moment and returned to studying her guest.

"Tell me, Agent..."

"Jainen, my Lord."

"Agent Jainen. Were you born into the Empire?"

Jainen fidgeted, still holding her half-empty glass. "No, my Lord. I was born on the Outer Rim."

"And yet you joined the Empire?"

"My world was annexed, I wished to serve," Jainen said simply.

"How noble," Avarys said dryly. "Tell me, Agent Jainen...do you serve the Sith or the Empire?"

Jainen shifted uncomfortably. "It's my understanding that the Sith are the Empire, my Lord."

Avarys smirked. "So then, would you say you serve me?"

"Of course, my Lord."

"So your attempt to countermand my orders on the bridge..."

Jainen straightened. "I simply thought that—"

"And your insistence on bringing that loathsome traitor in alive?"

Avarys could practically hear Jainen's jaw clench. By the stars, the righteous anger this woman had simmering just under the surface! If she'd been born Force sensitive, she could have ruled the galaxy.

"I was merely acting in the best intelligence interest of the Empire," she ground out. "I take my job very seriously."

"Oh yes, I can tell," Avarys said dismissively. "Such a good little spy you are." Avarys stood, sauntering over to Jainen with a smug grin. "Little backwater girl all dressed up and playing soldier. It's adorable."

"Not so different from a little slave girl playing Sith," Jainen snapped, and Avarys' eyes went wide. Now Jainen was the one who smirked, even if only for a second. "You will find, Lord Avarys, that Imperial Intelligence is extremely good at finding that which others wish to conceal."

Avarys' hand twitched. She could feel the presence of her lightsaber, resting on the end table next to the bottle; part of her just wanted to pull it forward and drive the blade straight into the smug spy's spine. Said spy, however, merely emptied her glass in one long pull.

"I look forward to our mutually beneficial relationship, Lord Avarys," Jainen said as she handed back the glass, "now that we understand each other."

Jainen turned and keyed the door without another word. As it closed behind her, Avarys could only stand in shock, long-ignored memories threatening to bubble to the surface. When they were safely tucked away again...she smiled.

Oh, this was going to be _fun_.


	6. Yellow and Orange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As will become immediately clear, Chapters 4, 5, and 6 take place before the events of the first three chapters. Hopefully it won't be too confusing.

Metasi Stormrider was trying to drink in peace.

That was easier said than done. She was finally off Ord Mantell, finally free of that disgusting, lecherous old man she'd had to tie herself to in order to survive, and now she was headed for real, paying work of her own on Hutta and wanted to celebrate by getting stone drunk. Unfortunately, the people filling the cantina around her didn't just want to drink. They wanted to _talk_. They wanted to _dance_. They wanted to _party_. They wanted to laugh their shrill, annoying laughs right in her ear, and bump into her from behind as they pawed at each other. And perhaps worst of all...they wanted to flirt with her.

The man who slid onto the stool next to hers was, well...he wouldn't have been much of a prize even if she were remotely interested in men. As it was, she was pretty close to just shooting him and having done with it.

"Y'know you got one hell of a body for a gunslinger," he drawled."You one of them bounty hunters who sedu...sadoo...flirts guys inta givin' themselves up?" He leaned closer, grinning wider, which just made the smell on his breath more pronounced. "Cuz I been a real bad boy..."

Metasi kept her face fixed stubbornly straight ahead. "No, I'm the kind of bounty hunter who shoots idiots who run their mouths. You want a free demonstration?"

Somehow, maddeningly, the guy wasn't dissuaded. All fantasizing aside, she really didn't want to have to shoot him; they'd probably ask her to leave the bar.

"C'mon, baby, I'm a real big smuggler. Anything you want, I can get it, you jus' say the word. You wanna new gun? Maybe one of them skimpy little slave girl outfits?"

Metasi finally turned to face him with a burning sneer. "Look, buddy, I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told Baraga the Hutt: I don't care how much you pay me...I don't do slugs!"

* * *

Amathys was trying not to laugh.

Really, she felt almost sorry for the guy given how drunk he was and the solid wall of ice he kept banging his head against. But even putting aside all that sympathy _and_ professional courtesy for a fellow smuggler... _come on_. That line was _awesome_.

She couldn't stop a snort from escaping her throat, and apparently she wasn't the only one at the bar who lacked self control, because it seemed like half the cantina was laughing. The guy's face was red now—well, redder than it had been—and he shoved off the bar with so much force Amathys was amazed he didn't simply tip over the other way.

"Joke's on you, trashheap," he spat, "I was only interested cuz I thought you had a face!"

The woman stood, hand on the grip of her pistol. Now that she'd turned, Amathys could see that the woman's face, while pretty on one side, was an absolute mess of scars and cybernetics on the other. More importantly, however, she looked like she was seriously considering shooting an idiot in the back. As he stumbled his way off into the crowd, Amathys slid her way down the bar and casually settled her hand on top of the cyborg's.

"Whoa, at ease, soldier. Let's not go getting anyone in trouble." The woman scowled, but wasn't trying to draw anymore, so Amathys pulled back her hand and plopped down on the man's abandoned bar stool. "Come on, let me buy you a drink."

The woman smiled flatly. "I'm fine."

Amathys smirked. "If you're drinking with me, they might stop stumbling over to hit on you."

The woman rolled her eyes, but settled back in her seat. Amathys flagged down the bartender droid for refills, then leaned back and offered her hand. "Amathys. Captain of the..."

The woman looked down at her hand skeptically, then up at her as she trailed off. "Of the what?"

Amathys grinned self-consciously. "Well, I haven't quite decided on a name for her yet. I've got some good ones, I just can't pick. What do you think of the _Century Hawk_?"

The woman just squinted. "How can you be flying around in a ship without a name?"

Amathys' smile turned even more self-conscious. "Well...it helps that it's not technically registered anywhere."

The woman didn't really react, which given her history of reactions was probably a good thing. Amathys just left her hand out, and eventually the redhead shook it. "Metasi Stormrider."

Amathys' eyes went wide. "Wait. Stormrider? Your name's _Stormrider_?" Metasi shrugged, and Amathys grinned. "That's _awesome_!"

Metasi—Metasi _Stormrider_ , thank you—just shrugged. "It's worked okay so far."

"No, I'm serious, if you're going to be a big famous bounty hunter, that's a great name to have!"

Metasi's eyebrow rose. "What makes you think I'm a bounty hunter?"

Amathys rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, look at you. Besides, I'm good at reading people." She leaned forward and waggled her fingers playfully. "I think I'm a little Force sensitive, you know?"

Metasi rolled her eyes and took a pull from her drink. "So what's that mean, Captain Amathys? Gonna go be a Jedi?"

Something about the way the word 'Jedi' snapped off her tongue made Amathys not want to ask for details about why the word 'Jedi' snapped off her tongue the way it did. Instead, she just laughed. "Hardly. Jedi like their rules. Rules and I have always been star-crossed lovers, catching brief glimpses of each other but never meeting."

Metasi took another drink, her eyes trending downward, following Amathys' abundant curves. "Sounds romantic," Metasi purred, and Amathys gulped. Well, that was unexpected.

She cleared her throat. "Uh, I should probably mention that I like men. Only men. I mean, not only men men, I'm not speciesist, and I don't have any kind of problem with women who..."

Metasi was just shaking her head, a glint in her eye. "Joke's on you, trashheap, I was only interested cuz I thought you had a face."

Amathys blinked. Then they were both laughing. She shook her head and, eventually, cleared her throat. "Besides. I have to keep something in reserve in case there's ever a bounty on my head and I need some way to pay you off..."

Metasi grinned. "No offense, but I hope that day never comes. You're too nice a kid to shoot." Amathys chuckled and raised her glass. Metasi clinked her against it and leaned in. "Unless the money's good enough."

Amathys laughed again.

* * *

The drinks kept flowing for the better part of the night. Amathys couldn't say she was disappointed; she'd wanted to celebrate the career-making job she was about to pull on Ord Mantell, and aside from that one brief moment of miscommunication Metasi's company had been nothing to sneeze at. She'd even helped the redhead corral the giggly pink Twi'lek who was currently leaving the cantina on her arm. Metasi gave her one final glance back, a subtle smirk that Amathys met with a raised glass and a roguish grin. As she watched Metasi leave, she took a drink, her mind drifting.

Amathys Stormrider, Captain of the _Stormrider_. Now _that_ had some potential...


	7. Blue and Orange, Part II

Tereis Stormrider was trying to remain objective.

That was impossible, of course. Not just in the sense that it was impossible for any sentient being to be truly objective because perspective was the defining feature of sentience and so the vaunted objectivity of the Jedi was more of a process than a position, but in a more personal sense. Specifically, the more personal sense that the most wanted individual in the Republic, someone who had allegedly committed more acts of terrorism and genocide than anyone in galactic history and who, as a Jedi, she had a sacred duty to hunt down and bring to justice, was...well...

She let out a sigh as she summoned a taxi from the transport kiosk.

The crew had wanted to back her up, of course; well, all except for Kira, who knew what was really going on and tried to gently dissuade them. Sergeant Rusk in particular had all but insisted on coming when he heard she was hunting an Imperial terrorist, but she managed to talk him down. Who even knew how messy things would have gotten if he'd tagged along.

As if they weren't messy enough already.

The taxi was fully automated, which was good. She didn't want to be around people right now. She punched in the coordinates and leaned back, letting the garish neon skyline whiz past without even really seeing it.

Nar Shaddaa. Why did it always have to be Nar Shaddaa?

* * *

Metasi Stormrider was trying to lie low.

That was easier said than done, of course, when half the galaxy knew you as the Grand Champion of the Great Hunt and the other half knew you as the most wanted criminal in Republic history. Still, Nar Shaddaa was a place where celebrities and criminals rubbed elbows all the time, and part of her Great Hunt prize had gone into buying this place...it would have been a shame not to use it.

The free-floating so-called 'sky palace' was a bit gauche for her tastes, but it was private, out of the way, and had all the amenities. She'd just finished taking advantage of one of them—the hydroshower—and was about to take advantage of another—the full bar—when a third demanded her attention—the security system. Apparently a taxi was flying up to the landing pad outside, unannounced. It wasn't the crew, they would have just brought the Mantis, and she wasn't expecting guests. She tossed aside the towel she was using to dry her hair and called up the monitors. When she saw the figure stepping out of the taxi, she froze. The security system was flashing at her, asking whether she'd like to seal the doors and offering a selection of private security firms willing to make a very reasonably-priced one-time visit to remove the intruder. She turned it off and headed for the front door. She was only wearing her underwear, but somehow she didn't imagine her guest would mind.

She heard the buzz of a lightsaber from the other side of the door; probably planning to slice the console one way or the other, she reasoned. Before that could happen, she keyed the door open. Now it was Tereis' turn to freeze.

Her wife was wearing the same abbreviated blue outfit she'd been wearing the last time they'd stood face to face on Nar Shaddaa. But then, Metasi didn't suppose Jedi had especially deep closets. Not that she was one to talk. She tried to smile.

"Figured you might show up eventually," Metasi murmured. "You here to arrest me?"

Tereis didn't laugh. Her grip on her saber tightened, even while her lower lip was quivering. "Just tell me it's not true."

Metasi looked straight down into her eyes. "It's not." She shrugged. "Little bits of it, just enough to make me a good scapegoat. But I've never destroyed a planet, or bombed a hospital, or whatever else is on there."

"Why you?"

"I don't know. But I'm gonna find out."

Tereis paused, studying her face. Metasi didn't bother arguing her case; if Tereis didn't believe her then, well, maybe it was better to just turn herself in. Eventually, however, Tereis extinguished her saber.

"I'm breaking my vows by being here," she muttered, and Metasi quirked a relieved smile.

"Well if it makes you feel any better, you're also committing treason." Tereis scowled and Metasi reached for her shoulder, feeling a flood of relief when her touch wasn't rebuffed. "You don't have to leave."

Tereis squeezed her eyes shut, but not before her eyes flicked down Metasi's half-naked body. "Yes, I do."

Metasi rolled her eyes. "Okay, you do have to leave." Her fingertips played with the spikes of brown hair hanging just above the lowered hood of the Jedi's robe. "But you can still stay," she said softly.

Tereis licked her lips, then sighed. She nodded, and Metasi stepped aside to let her in. Whatever they were planning to say or do once they were inside, Tereis stalled it by making a circuit of the main foyer, examining the curved golden walls and rich orange rugs and incongruously utilitarian chairs and tables dominating each side.

"This place is nice. For Nar Shaddaa, I mean."

Metasi smiled self-consciously, running a hand through her still-damp hair. "Yeah, that was pretty much what I said. It's way more space than I need, and I still don't have everything quite the way I want it, but..." She shrugged. Tereis had her back turned, fingers running through the leaves of a tall, graceful potted plant that brought a welcome spot of green to the room. Metasi grunted. "Oh yeah, that was a gift from this noble on Alderaan. Helped out with her family politics and put her in—"

The rest of her sentence disappeared between Tereis' lips, replaced by a soft sigh. The Jedi was up on her toes, arms wrapped around Metasi's neck, and Metasi's hands came up to rest on her arms as she deepened the kiss.

"I'm sorry," Tereis pulled back just far enough to say. Metasi didn't know whether she was apologizing for the kiss or for doubting Metasi's innocence, but with the lithe body—her _wife's_ lithe body, her mind corrected—pressed against her, Metasi didn't care. They pressed more tightly together, maneuvering toward the wall until Metasi could make use of the support to slide her hands down under Terei's firm backside, the Jedi's legs rising to wrap around her waist. They stayed like that, pressed up against the wall, luxuriating in each other's increasingly rough kiss and increasingly gentle touch, until one of the Cathar's sharp teeth nicked Metasi's lip. The jolt of pain was enough to make her shoot back, breathing hard and finding Tereis' golden eyes dilated with desire. They'd never done this, never even talked about it, never shared more than two kisses until tonight, but the look in Tereis' eyes was there all the same.

Metasi swallowed. "Why?" Tereis blinked and shook her head. "Why now?"

Tereis' lips, already plump and red before the kissing had swollen them, pursed awkwardly. "I...something happened to me. I...lost myself." Metasi had stilled, studying Tereis' strained face with concern. The Cathar shook her head. "Breaking free, coming back, it's been...hard to tell what's real and what's not." She winced, those giant golden eyes turning up to Metasi's beseechingly. "You're real. Aren't you?"

Metasi felt like she'd been shot. Her thumb traced down the side of Tereis' face, ruffling the spotted fur, trying to get comfort as much as give it. "Hey, of course. Of course I'm real." She swallowed. "Look, we...we don't have to do or say anything you don't want to. Just...stay here tonight, with me. Please. Just one night."

Tereis let her eyes slip shut, then nodded. Metasi kissed her forehead, then pulled back to let her drop from the wall.

"Are you hungry?" Tereis nodded, and Metasi smiled. "Get comfortable. I know this Mantellian place that delivers."

They didn't talk much during dinner: just about the food, Tereis admitting how nice it was to have Mantellian food again and Metasi asking whether she thought the fried aiga were spicy enough. They spent most of the time staring out at the skyline, Metasi struggling to figure out what she was supposed to say. The longer the silence dragged on, the more awkward it became. Finally Metasi set down her napkin, leaned back, and took a deep breath.

"I think about you sometimes." Tereis turned from the window, blinking. Metasi shrugged awkwardly, already thinking this was probably a bad idea. "When I'm working, when I'm on some planet hunting some idiot, I'll just think...what would happen if I turned the corner and you were standing there? Maybe in trouble, maybe in my way, maybe just...there."

Tereis frowned, picking at her fish. "I try not to think about you," she murmured. Metasi tried not to wince as Tereis' big golden eyes flicked up to hers. "I'm not very good at it."

Metasi shook her head. "Rei, what are we doing? Are we friends, are we lov....are we anything?"

Tereis sighed. "I don't know."

"What do you want?"

Tereis turned back toward the window, shaking her head in the process. "I want the galaxy to be different."

Metasi didn't know what to say. Except, maybe, how heartbreakingly beautiful Tereis looked silhouetted against the window, small and slender and strong and vulnerable, elegant and disheveled in a way that was so quintessentially Jedi it made her want to scream. Instead, she said "I have a guest bedroom," and Tereis turned back to face her, face unreadable. Metasi cleared her throat. "More than one, actually. If you...I wouldn't ask you to..."

She trailed off helplessly, Tereis' expression hinting at some internal battle whose details Metasi could only guess. Finally, those big golden eyes turned up to hers. "Hold me."

The last of Metasi's resistance, nobility, acknowledgment of what a disaster this might be, crumbled. She took hold of her wife's small, slender hands and lifted her to her feet, guiding her gently toward the bedroom.

* * *

They'd gone to sleep with Metasi pressed against Tereis' back, too afraid to really embrace her but too tired not to. When Metasi woke up, it was to find she'd rolled onto her back and Tereis was practically lying on top of her. She slowly slid her hand down to the Jedi's shoulder, and Tereis pressed closer with an unconscious sigh. They were in their underwear—even though it had been a near-daily occurrence growing up neither one had had the nerve to be naked in front of the other—but Metasi could still feel Tereis' curves, the gentle tickle of fur against her skin. She stroked her fingers through Tereis' hair as she idly glanced at the time; it was early, earlier than she usually woke up. But then, she didn't usually have someone else in bed with her.

Actually, now that she thought about it, this was the first time she'd shared her bed with anyone since...what, that Twi'lek girl? Before Hutta? Back when she'd had the time and the inclination to spend the night with anyone other than...well. She shook her head. Though she didn't intend it the motion was enough to make Tereis stir against her, limbs tightening around her stomach and hips, another sigh escaping the lips pressed against Metasi's sternum as Tereis' eyes fluttered open. Metasi glanced down and tried to smile.

"Morning."

"Good morning," Tereis murmured. Her body stiffened for a moment, and Metasi's stiffened in turn, but then it relaxed again. "Thank you. For...being here."

Metasi swallowed. "Always."

"What time is it?" Tereis mumbled against her skin, still only half awake.

"Early. Do you have to get back?"

Tereis' clawed fingers brushed gently, maybe even unconsciously, along the length of Metasi's bare midriff, her eyes drifting shut again. "Five more minutes."

As Tereis' cheek came to rest against her heart, Metasi couldn't stop the thought that slipped through the crack in her armor; this was what waking up next to Tereis was like. This was what waking up next to her _wife_ was like. And if the galaxy were different...

She let her head tip back onto the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, Tereis pulled more tightly against her chest.

_Five more minutes._


	8. Red and Green, Part II

Jainen was trying not to smile.

It wasn't professional, after all, to take too much pleasure in one's work; she'd leave that to the Sith. And while she knew her share of soldiers, spies, and mercenaries who enjoyed the act of killing, an assassination was by it's very nature a more sedate affair. You didn't assign someone who took his pleasure from the fear in his victim's eyes as he strangled them to kill a politician unless, perhaps, you really wanted to send a message. In this case, the message the Empire wished to send was simply 'fill Athano Briga's Senate seat,' which meant someone with a little more self-control was the preferred choice.

Which was why Jainen was trying to conceal how much she was looking forward to this assignment. At best, someone would get the impression that she was developing a taste for sadism based on the company she'd been keeping. At worst, someone would discover the actual reason she was excited.

After all, having a nemesis on the opposite side was all well and good. It was just that you were usually expected to concentrate on the best way to kill her rather than the best way to make her _blush_.

* * *

Varidia was trying to smile.

It wasn't professional, after all, to let the influential Senator to whom you were assigned know how much you resented having to be his babysitter, even if his constant commentary was grating on your nerves and he seemed to be under the impression that as a female Twi'lek your body was there for his admiration rather than to guard his.

"Don't you agree, my dear?"

Varidia shook her head. She couldn't afford to be sidetracked. The threat on Senator Briga's life was credible, and it was her sworn duty to protect him no matter how repulsive she might have found him on a personal level. "Of course, Senator. Step this way, please."

The transport that promised to take them out of Quesh's fetid, dangerous swamps loomed large in the distance, a contingent of Republic soldiers flagging them down. Varidia couldn't help but feel relieved; she didn't know why this tour of mines and military outposts had been necessary, but apparently the Senator felt very strongly about supporting the troops and about the contention that somehow this would show it. She reached out with her senses, almost idly; the trip had gone smoothly so far, but the pessimist in her couldn't help suggesting it had gone too smoothly.

"There will be refreshments, won't there? I'm feeling...quite parched. I swear, this tour has completely drained me, I simply...have to lie down. I don't suppose you'd care to join me, my dear? A woman of your...considerable talents, after all, could no doubt have me back in fighting shape in no time..."

Varidia wasn't even listening to the Senator's solicitations anymore; she was listening to the tingling in the back of her head. The pessimist in her had been right, as always; this was too easy.

The Senator had his hand on the door of the two seat speeder when Varidia heard the whine. Before he could even pull the latch, the speeder was thirty feet above him and still rising. He turned to find Varidia, straining under the exertion of Force-lifting it, and was able to say "What the—" before the explosion.

The Senator shrieked and tucked into a ball, and the soldiers were immediately on guard. Not immediately enough, however: two were quickly struck down by blaster bolts. _One shooter_ , Varidia's mind supplied as she reached out with her instincts and drew her saber to block the next two. The shots were coming from the ridge to the east, and she didn't feel any other threats nearby. "Protect the Senator," she shouted back at the sergeant in charge, "I have the sniper!"

She caught sight of the black-and-red clad figure skidding down the slope and leapt, the Force propelling her right into the assassin's back and sending them tumbling down the scree and into the foul water below. She rolled to her feet, robes soaked and saber out, to find a familiar smirking face behind the sniper rifle pointed at her. "Master Jedi."

"Agent."

"You're looking well."

"Likewise."

The slice of Varidia's hand was the only warning the spy received before a wave of swamp water crashed into her. Varidia brough her saber down, hoping to split the rifle in half, only to have the blade unexpectedly catch on the bayonet that sprung from beneath it. Varidia blinked in surprise, and Jainen grinned. "Cortosis."

Varidia scowled. "Impressive."

Jainen just smirked wider. "Only the best for you, dear."

That was the only warning Varidia received before a flashbang detonated at her feet. Even without her sight she could feel the Imperial agent's presence, circling behind her and trying to gain some distance, and now she was the one who smirked. Thanks to the living Force, she could also feel the tree Jainen had placed behind herself. She thrust out her hand, throwing Jainen against the gnarled trunk and immediately closing with her saber. She felt Jainen's rifle crushed between them, Jainen's armor against her chest, and as her sight returned she saw the spy's face: flushed, intense, and every bit as excited as she was.

"You lose again, Agent," Varidia panted. To her shock, Jainen actually started to chuckle.

"You're very sure of your skills, aren't you Master Jedi?"

Varidia blinked, only now registering the buzzing of her commlink. "Master Jedi, do you read? I repeat, the Senator isn't breathing, we have medics on site, please respond!"

Varidia turned a horrified eye back to Jainen, who shook her head. "I'm afraid I poisoned the Senator before you even left, Master Jedi. The rest was just so I could see you again." Even if Varidia could have thought of a response, she wouldn't have had time to act on it before Jainen rushed forward, claiming Varidia's lips in an animalistic kiss. Varidia was so caught up in the rush of the handsome spy's mouth on hers that she never felt the stun prod until her body was convulsing with current.

It didn't take her long to recover, but long enough for Jainen to slip out of her grip and vault back up onto the quarried cliff face. Varidia grimaced, finger going to her commlink. "Sergeant, do everything you can for the Senator. I'm still in pursuit of the shooter."

She didn't wait for the soldier's response, just leapt up the rocks after her target. She was so focused that she barely registered the hum of a shuttle until it was practically on top of her: reinforcements.

When she hopped down from the cliff toward the mouth of a collapsed mine, six marines dropped with her. What they found was Agent Jainen in the middle of planting explosives.

"Hands up," one of the marines shouted, and Jainen complied. When she turned, the look on her face was...not as confident. Compared to her general cool, Varidia would almost have described it as disturbed.

That was when she heard the screaming coming from the other side of the rocks. "Sir, I think there are people in there!" one of the marines said unnecessarily; Varidia could feel how many people were in there. Her eyes went to Jainen's, and the spy set her jaw.

"Those miners are Imperial citizens."

The marines glanced at each other, not sure what to do. Varidia, on the other hand, didn't hesitate. A few gestures with her hands, and the rising Force cleared the rocks from the mineshaft; as soon as they did, a dozen filthy, coughing men stumbled into the open air. "Seal it, the gas!" one of them shouted, and Varidia let the rocks fall.

The marines had their guns trained halfheartedly on the dozen Imperials now lying helpless among them. Varidia looked from them to Jainen, face still tense.

"Sir, do we take them in?"

Jainen's eyes never left Varidia's, her stare fixed in a silent challenge. Varidia met it. "These men are civilians. Have them treated and released." Jainen's face relaxed, thought Varidia doubted anyone else would have been able to tell. "Are you going to come peacefully?"

"Will these men pay if I don't?"

Varidia scowled. "Of course not!"

Jainen smiled sadly. "Well then, I suppose we're done here, aren't we?"

The hissing of the gas canister gave Varidia just enough warning to throw the edge of her robe over her mouth, the only reason she was able to keep from collapsing in violent fits of coughing like the marines. The cloud, she couldn't help but notice, had drifted up; the miners lying on the ground hadn't been affected at all.

By the time the smoke cleared, Jainen was gone. Varidia couldn't really begrudge her that, of course. Nor, to her surprise, could she begrudge her the fact that she'd just assassinated a sitting Republic Senator. All she could do was silently promise herself: _next time_. _Next time_ , she thought, _I'll be the one with the upper hand_.

 _Next time_ , she thought, _**I'll** be the one who kisses **her**_.


	9. Yellow and Purple, Part II

Amathys Stormrider was trying to keep warm.

That was easier said than done; even with all the layers she was wearing, Hoth wasn't exactly the most inviting planet. In fact, if they hadn't absolutely needed to be here, they already would have turned around and left it in their engine wake, never to return. But then, she figured, that was probably true of pretty much everyone on this ice ball.

"I'm not one to complain, Captain," Corso said through chattering teeth, "but it's a little chillier than I generally like out here."

In spite of everything, Amathys smirked at him over her shoulder. "Are you suggesting we find a way to keep each other warm, Corso?"

Even with his cheeks already flushed from the cold, Amathys could tell her first mate was blushing. "Uh...no ma'am. Captain. I mean...it's not so bad."

Amathys rolled her eyes and gunned the speeder again. They were almost to the Republic camp...what was it, Echo? Mern? Whatever. They were almost to some cover, a heater, some food, and a fresh supply of work courtesy of people who didn't have the guts or the insulation to go out in the snow themselves.

Well, she shouldn't really complain about these Republic types, she admitted to herself. Sure, they were a little square, but hell, at least they weren't as bad as the Si—

She didn't even have time to finish forming the word in her head before a streak of purple lightning tore the engine out of her speeder and sent her catapulting into the snow.

* * *

Avarys was trying to  solve a problem .

She'd felt her presence as soon as her ship had touched down on Hoth. The connection they shared through the Force, so strong she could almost taste it, a metallic sting at the back of her throat that made her want to vomit. She had other obligations on Hoth, potentially lethal ones, but she couldn't deal with them, couldn't even think straight, until this was handled. Because all she knew was that the lingering presence in the back of her mind, an annoying itch even when they were far apart, was enough to drive her insane now.

The other speeder skidded to a stop as Amathys' flipped; Avarys vaguely recognized the man who got off as her sister's boytoy, the one who simpered and served and called her 'Captain' and played the gentleman instead of giving in to his passions. In a way, she conceded, the romantic idiot was just her sister's type.

"Captain!" He was running toward her and drawing his blaster, scanning the hills for the unseen attacker, and Avarys smirked; with the Force shrouding her, she could be standing right in front of him and he wouldn't have noticed. Or better yet, right behind him, her saber neatly severing his spine and ending her sister's disgusting romance once and for all.

As tempting as that thought was, however, Amathys was already rising. Avarys, not wanting to draw attention to this weakness, had ordered the crew to remain with the ship, and as powerful as she was she so no reason to give her sister a numbers advantage. Another blast of lightning was enough to send her sister's boytoy flying into a snowbank and out of the fight. Of course it also meant that her position was no longer hidden. She drew her saberstaff just as Amathys drew her pistol and spun to face her attacker. When she saw who it was, her eyes went wide. Avarys scowled.

"Surprised. Pathetic." She began to circle Amathys, who kept the blaster and a wary glare focused on her. "You have the same gift with the Force I do. If you'd bothered to develop it instead of playing adventurer, you would have felt me coming!" She shook her head. "Wasted potential. Is there anything more disgusting?"

"I can think of a few things," Amathys said icily. Avarys' response was cut off by the first shot from Amathys' pistol. She deflected it easily, but doing so put her out of position and allowed her sister to move back into cover; Avarys shrieked and summoned a gout of lightning, but it only did more damage to the ruined speeder. "Don't do this!" Amathys shouted from behind the speeder, and Avarys seethed.

"Don't tell me what to do!" She reached out with the Force, ripping the speeder away and leaping forward, saber ready for the killing blow. What she found was her sister holding a second gun, one she didn't recognize. Was that a blaster?

That thought and a flash of anger were her only warnings before her face was filled with a cloud of burning shrapnel. Avarys teetered backward with a shriek, batting at the fragments stuck in her robe in panic; when she recovered, her sister was nowhere to be found. Well, nowhere to be seen...she could still feel her. _Everywhere_ , all around her, _mocking_ her. In the moment of clarity when another blast from the shrapnel gun tore her saber from her hand, she had a strange thought: if she hadn't been so angry, so distracted, would she have been able to pinpoint Amathys' position even with the stealth generator? Was that what the Jedi did?

Then the pain set in, sending her to her knees clutching her burning, shredded hand. She looked up, eyes blazing, to find Amathys staring down at her, pistol at her forehead. Avarys growled.

"Finish it!"

Amathys' eyes shifted. Her finger was twitching against the trigger, almost but never hard enough to pull it. She wanted it. Avarys could feel it, the anger, the pain, the fear, the _hate_. She would gladly kill everyone Amathys loved, and Amathys _knew_ it, and Amathys wanted to _punish_ her for it. She was finally going to _end_ it.

The pistol dropped to her side. Avarys blinked in shock, then scowled. "I said finish it! Do it! Kill me, take your revenge, conquer your enemy, be the hero!"

Amathys shook her head weakly. All that righteous anger had been drained from her face; now she just looked tired. Avarys wondered for a moment how she must have looked. "Don't tell me what to do."

Avarys ground her teeth. "You're weak," she snapped. "You're nothing but a weak, selfish, stupid little girl!"

Amathys was still shaking her head. "Of course I'm weak." Avarys blinked in confusion as her sister's eyes turned contemplative. "Av, you were always the strong one. You were always the smart one. You always...protected me. You would have done anything to protect me."

Avarys clenched her jaw. _A ten year old girl taking a beating for her sister. Don't cry, Ammy, you need to be brave. I love you. I won't let him hurt you._

"I was an idiot," Avarys ground out through clenched teeth. "I loved you. I sacrificed for you. And you betrayed me."

Avarys flinched as her sister dropped to her knees, a pair of soft arms closing around her neck: a forehead, anomalously warm in the freezing wind, pressing against hers. "I was weak," Amathys muttered. "I didn't betray you, I _failed_ you. And I'm sorry, I...Av, I..."

Avarys reached out with her good hand, shakily grabbing the edge of her sister's coat. It was heavily insulated against the cold, thick and warm, designed to keep out the biting wind and the sub-freezing temperatures that hounded them both on this horrid planet.

That meant she had to slide her hand underneath it for the lightning to be truly effective.

Amathys screamed, convulsed, and dropped back, hands seizing even as they groped blindly for her weapons. With her right hand ruined, Avarys called the saber to her with her left; it was pitted with holes now, only one of the blades still working. That would be enough.

When the violet light ignited, Amathys' eyes went wide. Avarys could feel her fear, her despair, her sadness. The anger...that was gone. That shouldn't have mattered, Avarys thought as she held the saber poised inches above her enemy's throat. Amathys _needed_ to die, and Avarys _needed_ to kill her, and they _hated_ each other...

Didn't they?

The wind picked up again, making Avarys' robes flutter around her legs and stinging against her exposed hand, still outstretched, still waiting. It was so simple; a lightsaber had no resistance, she didn't even have to swing, just lower her hand a few inches and let the blade burn through her sister's neck. There was nothing stopping her from making the kill, claiming the victory, and being free from the maddening parasite in the back of her mind. She could finally be _free_...and _empty_...and _alone_.

The blade flickered and died. "You're weak," Avarys mumbled as the saber dropped from her chapped fingers into the snow. Amathys opened her mouth.

"Captain!" And just like that the boy was back, pointing his blaster in her face and rushing back to Amathys' side. As he glared distrustfully at her, Avarys almost wanted to smile; apparently he wasn't the type to shoot an unarmed woman. Gallantry yet again.

As the boy pulled Amathys' limp, barely-responsive form toward his speeder, Avarys dropped to her knees.

_I love you, Ammy. I'll protect you, I swear. I'll never let anyone hurt you._

"I'm not weak," Avarys whispered into the wind as the whine of the speeder faded in the distance.

_I love you, Ammy._

"I'm not weak."


	10. Blue and Green, Part II

Tereis Stormrider was trying to put it all behind her.

The past was the past, she'd concluded, and her life was far too complicated as it was to keep dwelling on it. She was a Jedi now, and that meant whatever she'd been before was immaterial. Even if what she'd been before kept popping back into her life at her most vulnerable moments, holding her while she cried and kissing her with raw, unapologetic need and telling her how much it loved her with its eyes because neither one of them could bear to say it out loud and ruin everything for both of them even though...

Tereis sighed.

* * *

Varidia was trying not to pry.

She wasn't a gossipy—or even particularly socially aware—individual by nature, but she certainly knew Tereis well enough by now to read something profound in that weary sigh. The Twi'lek pursed her lips. It would have been so much easier to just ask and be done with it. She cleared her throat.

"Is the tea all right?"

Tereis shook her head and tried to smile. "It's wonderful. Thanks. And thanks for inviting me up here."

Varidia nodded. The truth, though it wasn't appropriate to say, was that inviting Tereis to her small Coruscant apartment hadn't really been for the Cathar's benefit; Varidia's own life was such a maze of temptations and secrets and conspiracies right now that she'd needed her oldest friend's blunt, perceptive wisdom to help her keep her head above water. Over the last twenty minutes, however, they'd simply been sipping tea and making small talk.

Varidia sighed.

"You've been very busy," she finally said. "The war, I mean."

Tereis cleared her throat and set down her cup. "So have you. I'm glad we got to work together on Voss..."

"So am I."

"What about your crew? Are they all working out?"

"For the most part. A few of them are...difficult to deal with."

This time Tereis gave a genuine smile. "Now that I can definitely relate to. I don't suppose one of yours keeps trying to flirt with you?"

Varidia merely rolled her eyes in response. "Fortunately being Jedi serves as a fairly good excuse for deflecting that kind of attention," she said, only blushing a little as her thoughts went, unbidden, to the exception to that rule. Not that Agent Jainen of Imperial Intelligence really fell in that category, she told herself. Jainen's flirting, after all, was entirely strategic.

Probably.

Possibly.

She looked back to find Tereis with her lips pursed, eyes on her tea. "Varidia?"

"Mm?"

"Do you ever have...doubts?"

Varidia's eyes narrowed. "About what?"

"I don't know. Being a Jedi. About...the things you could have if it weren't for your oaths." Varidia frowned, but Tereis hastily shook her head. "I don't mean power or anything, just...normal things. A normal, quiet, peaceful life."

Varidia frowned. "We give up those things to ensure that others can have them," she said. The words sounded hollow even to her. Tereis frowned.

"I know, but...forever? How much do we have to give before it's enough?"

Varidia's mind began to drift, images of the life she might have had, might still have if not for the muddied and increasingly arbitrary-seeming boundaries that crowded her life, but before they could take hold she shook them away. "We're in the middle of a war, Tereis," she said firmly. "Our own lives, our own...needs...will have to wait."

Tereis pursed her lips, but nodded and looked back down at her tea. The question she didn't ask hung in the air between them like the steam rising from their cups: _For how long?_

"You're right," Tereis said softly. "I know that. It's just...hard."

"I know. But...it's necessary. Being a Jedi, doing what we do...it's worth the sacrifice."

Tereis said nothing; she just took a long, slow sip from her tea, eyes fixed somewhere outside on the sunset-bathed Corsucant horizon. Varidia, not knowing what else to say, did the same. In the end, she wasn't sure her words had done anything to convince her friend.

Hell, she wasn't even sure they'd done anything to convince herself.


	11. Red and Purple, Part II

Avarys was trying to keep the upper hand.

Her first encounter with the woman currently surveying the broken prison walls of Belsavis alongside her had taught Avarys a clear, humiliating lesson: never underestimate a spy. That informal meeting in her quarters aboard the Black Talon had left her feeling uneven, off balance, outmaneuvered.

Weak.

The sensible thing, of course, would have been to limit her contact with this woman who'd so easily disarmed her, to avoid the chance of it happening again in the future; Agent Jainen, after all, had only ever responded defensively to her, and had given no indication that Avarys and her political ambitions mattered much to her. But then that, of course, just made the whole thing that much more insulting.

It wasn't that Avarys minded having a rival, on principal; that was part of being Sith. But then, that was part of what made it so galling. Her biggest rival wasn't Sith. She was just another grunt, a cog in the machinery of the Sith Empire— _her_ Empire—and that certainly didn't make her a worthy opponent, Cipher Agent or not. If Avarys had been smarter, more proactive, she would have struck the young agent down before she became such a valuable asset, but it was too late for that.

Still. Just because Jainen couldn't be controlled didn't mean she couldn't be useful...

* * *

Jainen was trying to keep her guard up.

She'd had a few terse, professional run-ins with Lord Avarys since their first meeting just before the unending series of disasters that made up her career began, during which the Sith had mostly been snide and cold and Jainen had largely refused to take the bait. The meetings had, as far as she'd been able to ascertain, been accidents; they'd had business on the same worlds at the same time, their respective superiors had needed their respective talents for the same missions, and so on. This time, however, she had been made very keenly aware that Lord Avarys had requested her assistance by name.

And that, well...that meant she was anticipating a lightsaber in the back with every step.

"How do you recommend we proceed, Agent?" Avarys asked archly as they descended into one of Belsavis' uncounted and uncountable prison vaults, searching for an illegal Republic genetic experiment and the team of researchers who'd been sent down after it. Jainen thought for a moment, both about what were the best tactical options and what Avarys was expecting to hear.

"According to the schematics, the vault has two primary wings. I recommend we begin with the medical wing, as that's likely where the research team would have started looking."

"Really? I thought you'd want to split up. Trying to keep an eye on me, Agent?"

Jainen didn't rise to the jibe. She'd already considered splitting up, if only to get a few minutes of breathing room, and discounted the plan as too risky. "Without access to the Republic's repeaters the vault's structure would block communications. Splitting up isn't feasible."

"My my, you always do your homework," Avarys said dismissively, but without quite hiding a note of bitterness. But then, Jainen supposed that when one was Sith one didn't have to pretend not to be bitter.

They proceeded wordlessly down the winding stone corridors of the ancient prison, the unnerving sounds of breathing and skittering echoing around them; between rioting prisoners and whatever the Republic had been creating down here, Jainen was sure to keep her rifle at the ready.

She could hear Avarys' impractical bootheels tapping on the floor, and braced herself when they slowed. "Tell me, Agent..."

Jainen squared her jaw and braced for the next round of veiled insults. Instead Avarys hissed, spun, and raised her hand. Purple lightning surged from her fingertips, stopping the misshapen...thing loping out of the shadows after them, its fang-filled mouth ripped open in an inhuman scream of pain. Jainen twisted and fired before she even had to think about it, kneecapping the next two...whatever these were. They looked a bit like the monsters she'd seen on Taris; had the Republic been experimenting with rakghouls here?

Avarys drew her saber, cleanly slicing through the neck of one of the creatures Jainen had incapacitated. The last one gurgled and hissed, its broken face twisted with animalistic fury before Jainen put a merciful bolt in its forehead.

"Well, I suppose we've found our research team, haven't we?" Avarys clucked. Jainen frowned, poking at the shredded, dirty clothes the creature was wearing.

"This is Republic gear. I think they were part of the original staff. Our people could still be—"

"Hello? Is someone there?" It was a man's voice, coming from one of the medical labs down the hall. "Please, you have to help us!"

The two women shared a glance before Jainen jogged toward the source of the sound, Avarys following at a more sedate pace. What they found was a small lab with a forcefield stretching across its doorway, tinting the people inside in its bright green; two soldiers, two scientists, and three med-techs, Jainen's tactical mind supplied. That was the whole team accounted for.

"I'm Cipher Agent Jainen, Imperial Intelligence. This is Lord Avarys. We're here to extract you."

One of the med-techs, a young woman with a pale complexion, started crying in relief. Jainen moved for the forcefield controls by the door, only for one of the scientists to press his bearded, wrinkled face against the field. "Stop! Agent, do not open this door! The emergency containment protocols activated when one of the containers in here suffered a breach. We....we're infected. Every one of us."

Jainen blinked. Avarys sighed. "Of course you are. Pathetic."

Jainen ignored her. "Is there a cure?"

"None of the Republic's antiserum tests proved effective. Even if we could get their research to the Empire..." The scientist swallowed. "The Republic thoroughly documented the compound's pathology. It's a miracle none of us has turned already. We have...hours, at most."

"I don't want to be one of those things," the crying girl gasped from her place on the floor. "Please, please please please..."

Jainen forced herself not to look, not to listen. "What do I do?" She managed to say.

The scientist frowned sadly. "Those controls will let you activate an emergency purge. The lab will be gassed, then proton-scoured. It...it will be painless."

"Is there no other way?"

The old man looked back at his colleagues. Aside from the girl and the soldier comforting her, they all nodded. "We discussed it. At length. We...we'd rather die as ourselves."

Jainen met his eyes. Without breaking the gaze, she moved her hand toward the panel.

"Hold, Agent."

Jainen turned to find Avarys staring into the sealed lab, a strange, thoughtful look on her face. Jainen hadn't forgotten she was there, exactly...it had just seemed like for once Avarys was allowing her to take the lead.

She should have known better.

"Tell me, Doctor, what was your mission here?"

The scientist glanced back at Jainen, who was frowning. He cleared his throat. "To determine the fate of the Republic's operation and secure samples of their pathogen."

"Are you referring to the samples you and your team decided to inhale?"

The old man blinked. "I..."

"Do you often choose to disregard your orders, Agent?" Jainen turned to find that Avarys' piercing, triumphant gaze was now on her. "Our job was to recover the research team and their findings. It seems to me we've been given the opportunity to do both at once." She drew a finger casually down the forcefield. "The Empire can collect these...failures and have living specimens to study. Why, if we hurry, they might even get to observe the transformation process."

Jainen scowled. She shouldn't have been surprised, but somehow she was. Somehow she hadn't thought even the Sith could be so callous. "These are Imperial citizens."

Avarys smirked. "And as such, they should feel honored to serve the Empire."

"They have served the Empire. Let them rest."

Avarys' smirk turned hard. "Agent Jainen. By the authority granted me by the Dark Council, I order you to stand down and contact Moff Serro to have these subjects extracted."

Jainen's teeth were grinding. She could hear the leatheris of her gloves creaking as her fists tightened. "With respect, My Lord—"

"With respect, Jainen," Avarys interrupted, drawing a single finger down the front of Jainen's armor. "We both know you are a loyal little dog. So follow your master's commands."

Jainen met the Sith Lord's haughty smirk with a glare. Without even looking away, she reached back and depressed the button on the panel marked 'Purge Lab'.

The hissing sound of the gas being released was accompanied by a long breath of quiet relief from the man pressed against the forcefield...then the sounds of seven bodies hitting the floor. Jainen's eyes never left Avarys' as they went from smirking confidence, to disbelief, to boiling rage.

"You impudent whore," Avarys hissed. Jainen held her gaze. "You serve the Empire!"

"You aren't the Empire," Jainen said simply, almost sadly. "They were."

Avarys' shriek of rage was the only warning before Jainen was on the floor, screaming in uncontrollable pain as lightning licked her body. "How **dare** you defy me? How dare you **mock** me? I am **SITH!** I AM LIKE A **GOD TO YOU!** "

Jainen had lost all control of her muscles, couldn't even tighten herself to fight the seizures and the pain. All her energy, all her control, was going toward doing the stupidest thing she could think of:

Opening her mouth.

"Your...sist...ter..." she managed to cry out. The lightning ebbed. She was able to turn her head just enough to find Avarys staring at her, wide-eyed, face even paler than normal under the angry purple veins that spidered across it.

"What?" Avarys' voice was small, almost scared. Jainen managed to not smile.

"Your sister...was wrong. You're weak. You...you've always...been weak."

Avarys was shaking, her features caught between rage and terror. Just where a Sith belonged, Jainen couldn't help thinking. Slowly, deliberately, Avarys drew her saber.

"I'll show you strength." It was supposed to be a growl. It wasn't. It was barely more than a whimper. As much as she was able, Jainen shook her head.

"You won't. You never will."

Avarys ignited the blade. Jainen closed her eyes and waited. And waited.

And waited.

The next sound she heard was the click of those ridiculous heels echoing on the floor, running back toward the entrance. She let her body relax, taking comfort in the cold stone against her face. She wondered if she'd scar. She wondered if she'd regain her strength before any surviving test subjects found her. She wondered whose side Moff Serro would take if she made it out alive.

That last one wasn't a question she would have asked in the beginning. They were all on the same side. The Empire against the Republic, order against chaos, all united in a common purpose. That was why she joined.

That was what she was.

Jainen forced herself to breathe, forced herself to her hands and knees, then to her feet, using her rifle to steady herself. She glanced into the lab. The bodies were gone, purged; she hadn't even noticed the forcefield shut down.

Those citizens, regardless of what it had cost her, were at peace.

Slowly but surely, Jainen headed back for the surface.


	12. Yellow and Orange, Part II

Amathys Stormrider was trying to get paid.

That was easier said than done, which might as well have been the title of the autobiography she was still not-quite-seriously considering writing. Usually, Corellia was a pretty good place for a pilot with a cargo ship to find work. Of course, that was partly because Corellia wasn't usually a warzone. With the Empire on one side and the Republic on the other, smuggling some corporate type off-world because his brother wanted to kill him over a business dispute seemed...almost petty.

The 'almost,' of course, being the number of credits he was offering.

She banked hard to port, the sound of comical flailing and shrieking greeting her from behind. She rolled her eyes. "Bowdaar, would you help Mr. Carden locate his seatbelt, please?"

The wookiee growled his agreement even as the client complained. "Are you absolutely sure this is the best—" Another barrage of turbolaser bolts scraping past the bow to tear chunks out of the ruined building next to them interrupted him. "—the best way to lose them?"

"Mr. Carden, trust me, low altitude flying's the best way to shake pursuit." At least it was normally, Amathys added silently to herself. Whoever the pilot of the Mantis pursuing them was, he was good.

"Captain, we're getting a message from the ship. Text only."

She looked down at the screen in front of her and almost laughed. All it said was:

_You named your ship after me?_

She'd been wrong, as usual. The hunter chasing them wasn't good. She was _awesome_.

* * *

Metasi Stormrider was trying to keep a straight face.

She wouldn't have even bothered if the client hadn't insisted on coming himself, sitting on the bridge complaining about how she wasn't killing his brother fast enough; as soon as Mako had pulled the fleeing ship's registry, she'd made up her mind that this job was going to get a little more fun for everyone. And that was before Amathys responded with a message of her own:

_Want to put on a little show?_

She turned back to face Carden with a scowl. "You've got to be kidding me! You didn't tell me your brother hired Captain Amathys!"

Carden blinked. "Who?"

"Amathys," Metasi said slowly, as if he should feel stupid for not knowing the name. "She's the best smuggler in the galaxy!"

"She ran the blockade at Fellos by tricking half a dozen Imperial cruisers into firing on each other," Gault supplied immediately, quick on the uptake as he was when it came to smelling a scam. "Then when the Republic used the distraction to drive off the Empire and set up their own blockade, she ran that on her way back out!"

"But...you can still catch them?"

Metasi snorted. "Can? Maybe. Will? You know how many bounty hunters have tried to take out Amathys? I'm not getting my crew killed for ten thousand. I mean, maybe Skadge..."

The big Houk lurking in the bridge hatch laughed. Metasi could practically hear Carden's teeth grind as Amathys' ship—which yes, she'd somehow actually named the _Stormrider_ —began to distance itself from them.

"Fifteen!"

She gunned the throttle, trying to hide her grin. "Fine. You want to die that much, it's your money."

She didn't know whether Amathys could have out-flown her in a straight-up pursuit, but since she wasn't a pilot by trade it wasn't really a question her ego needed her to answer. Honestly, she was finally just having a little fun. She got a few more shots across the smuggler's shields, including one that grazed the bridge; she hoped Carden's brother was watching, because that one probably had him diving for cover. Mako was managing to deflect the comm chatter over Imperial military channels asking what the hell was going on, which meant she got to focus on what was quickly becoming more like a race. She was more than happy to keep it up for as long as Amathys wanted, even if she wasn't quite sure what the smuggler's endgame was.

It got a little clearer when the flat freighter spun into the narrow gap between two buildings, alighting on a loading spur just out of their reach. "Mako, give me a way into that building."

"It's an old hospital, there's a landing pad on the roof."

"Drop me off, then circle around in case this is a diversion. I'll handle this one personally."

"I'm coming with you," Carden demanded. Metasi rolled her eyes.

"Like I said, you want to die that much, it's your money."

* * *

Maybe it was just the memory of the week she'd spent going in and out of surgery having her face covered in cybernetics, but Metasi wasn't a fan of hospitals, much less abandoned war-torn ones that looked like they were going to crumble around her any minute. She also wasn't a fan of having her whining client tagging along for the ride.

She also wasn't a fan of turning a corner and getting flashbanged.

Metasi growled, shoved Carden down, and fired off a few shots to discourage any followup action before she could get to cover and get her sight back. When she did, she saw exactly what she expected to see; Amathys and the other Carden brother, hunkered down at the other end of the surgical suite behind one of those portable forcefields. She thought she caught a sly smile before Amathys opened fire.

There was a vast gulf, Metasi was beginning to realize, between shooting to kill and shooting to impress. This was definitely the latter. Blaster bolts were streaking back and forth, orange and yellow dancing overhead as rockets and grenades sent their sniveling clients scrambling for cover. Around the same time, they both decided to drop, Amathys clutching her ribs and Metasi grabbing at an imaginary wound on her thigh. Carden was right next to her, eyes wide, caught somewhere between genuine fear for his life and apoplexy that his brother was so close and still breathing. Metasi gave him her best glare, which, as anyone would agree, was pretty damn good.

"I never should have let you drag me into this! That's it, I'm out!"

Carden screamed in frustration. "But he's right there!"

"And so's she! Take your fifteen thousand and blow it out your—"

"Fine!" Carden swiped furiously at his wristband. "Twenty! I just uploaded twenty thousand credits to your account! Now go kill that bitch and my brother now!"

Metasi glanced up over her cover to find Amathys doing the same, motioning toward the operating theater's one set of working doors with her eyes. Metasi dropped back down and grimaced, even as inside she was smirking. "You better hope I live to regret this..."

She charged out with her flamethrower blazing, though given how big the room was it wasn't in danger of hitting anything. Amathys dove from cover, blaster raised, and the dance resumed, the smuggler even getting a few good hits on Metasi's armor as they fought their way toward the door. Metasi made sure to let off a missile as they dove through, a nice big explosion giving ample excuse for the doors to slide shut and seal. As the smoke cleared, Amathys lowered her free hand from the panel with a shameless grin.

"What'd you get?"

Metasi matched her pace down the corridor, the sound of two grown men locked in a room trying to slap each other to death echoing after them. "Double. Paid upfront."

Amathys grinned. "Triple."

Metasi scowled. "It's not a competition."

Amathys chuckled. "Hey, come on, don't be like that. Just means your reputation's that much scarier than mine. Come on, I'll buy you a drink. There's got to be one bar left on this planet that hasn't been blown to hell."

Metasi grinned. "Yeah, you can meet the crew. They're a fun bunch. Some of them might not even try to kill you."

As the two legitimate businesswomen headed back toward their ships, Amathys laughed. "And here I thought this job wasn't going to be any fun."


	13. Blue and Orange, Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These last three chapters, as should become immediately apparent, take place at the end of the war between the Republic and the Empire. Since these events haven't yet been established by canon, I've made certain assumptions about how and when the conflict ends, so consider these chapters even more extra-canonical than everything else. Okay? Okay.

Metasi Stormrider was trying to put it all behind her.

The war was over. Well, not over, not entirely; the Empire was in shambles and most of the military had surrendered, but there were still plenty of Sith who commanded enough loyal apprentices and army remnants to kill each other over whatever Imperial worlds the Republic didn't have the resources to kick them off of yet. The Sith were desperate and the Republic was still stretched thin, which meant mercs were out there on both sides making credits hand over fist in the last great death throes of the war.

Metasi wasn't. She was 'retired,' whatever that meant. Mostly what it meant was that pardon or no she was still blacklisted by the Republic, she'd rather blow the other half of her face off than work for another Sith, and she had enough of a nest egg that it wasn't worth running petty jobs for insulting Hutts like when she was young. She still worked with some of her old contacts sometimes, just to keep her skills from getting too rusty, but those jobs were favors, not a living. It was just as well. Skadge's joke when she'd announced she was getting out of the game, that she didn't have the stomach for it anymore, was truer than she would have liked.

The security console beeped, demanding her attention. The sky palace on Nar Shaddaa was as good a place to retire as any, especially given the fact that Skadge apparently wasn't the only one who thought she was going soft. Every few months some upstart merc or assassin or bounty hunter would get it into his head to make his name by taking down the infamous Stormrider. So every few months she got to give her old gear a workout, then had to spend a few hundred credits on a discreet Hutt garbage disposal service.

She called up the monitor to see a cab pulling up at the front dock, a small figure in plain, rugged spacer clothes climbing out. The hooded jacket hid her visitor's face, but Metasi couldn't see any armor or weapons; this one didn't seem like an assassin.

Sighing, she grabbed the pistol mounted between the security monitors—she'd acquired so many weapons over her career, it only made sense to leave them at strategic points throughout the house where they could be both displayed as trophies and used in an emergency—and walked to the front door. She was wearing loungewear, no armor, but somehow she wasn't exactly expecting an epic confrontation. She keyed the door open, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk and the gun clearly on display.

"You lost?" The visitor pulled back her hood and Metasi's face, as well as her grip on the gun, went slack. "Rei?"

* * *

Tereis Stormrider was trying to lie low.

It wasn't strictly necessary; no one paid attention to a skinny, poor-looking Cathar on Nar Shaddaa any more than they had on Ord Mantell, and anyone who would have recognized her specifically either was dead or had bigger things to worry about. Still, after spending so much of her life fighting for it, caution was a hard habit to break.

Judging from the gun in Metasi's hand, the sentiment was mutual.

Tereis cleared her throat. "I was."

Metasi blinked. "What?"

"Lost."

Metasi tensed against the doorframe even as the blaster dropped out of her hand, like she was physically holding herself back from sprinting straight into her wife's arms. Or maybe Tereis was just projecting.

"Shouldn't you be off saving the galaxy?"

It was somewhere between a joke and an insult, which made some amount of sense. Tereis took a deep breath and tried to smile. "I'll leave that to the Jedi."

Metasi blinked. "What? What's that supposed to...Rei, what's going on?"

Tereis shrugged. "I left. The Order."

Metasi's eyes narrowed. "You're on the run?"

"No. I just...retired."

Metasi frowned. "You can do that?"

"More or less. Not everyone who leaves the Order does it because they fall to the dark side. Some people just get..."

"What?"

Tereis winced. "Tired." Her eyes were on the metal deck beneath them, arms wrapped around her stomach. "Of fighting. Of being called on to sacrifice everything, over and over again. When that happens, when a Jedi loses the will to be a Jedi...it's better for everyone if they just walk away."

Metasi swallowed. "And you walked here?"

Tereis' eyes flicked up, a tentative smile playing across her lips. "I walked here." Metasi's expression didn't change, and Tereis looked back down. "I know I don't have any right to be here. I know you offered me everything over and over again, and I kept turning it down. I just...I know it's too late, but—"

The thump of Metasi's bare feet on the deck was the only warning she got before she was wrapped in her wife's arms, Metasi's lips against hers. Tereis slid her hands around Metasi's back, pulling her closer, touching the sliver of skin below her shirt with the pads of her fingers. The kiss lingered, almost ending more than once before one of them would lean in again for one last gentle brush that turned into another round. By the time they parted Tereis was crying, and when she looked up Metasi's left cheek, the one without the cybernetics, was wet too. Metasi leaned down to press their foreheads together.

"I love you," Metasi murmured. "I've loved you since I was eight years old. You know that, right?"

"I know. I...Taz...I've wasted so much of my life trying to keep myself from loving you, from being attached..." She shook her head ruefully. "It's funny. When I left, they were talking about what a great Jedi I'd been. But when you get down to it I'm not really a very good one, am I?" Metasi answered with another kiss. When they pulled apart, Tereis let out a sigh. "I'm just so tired."

"I know," Metasi whispered. "Come inside. Come home."

And Tereis Stormrider—Jedi Knight, Hero of Tython, defender of the Republic, and wife of the most dangerous criminal in the galaxy—did exactly that.

* * *

Tereis woke early. She couldn't help it; her decades in the Order had taught her certain things that were every bit as hard to shake as the Force. The change in her posture made Metasi hum in her sleep, tightening her arm around Tereis' waist and nestling her naked body more firmly against hers. They'd spent the entire night, and most of the afternoon before it, consummating their marriage: twenty years overdue, perhaps, but every bit worth the wait.

Tereis stroked her fingers through Metasi's hair, brushing the matted orange strands away from her face to reveal the scars and metal underneath. This woman was so beautiful, and so _hers_ , and the notion made her want to wake Metasi up and start celebrating all over again out of sheer joy and relief at not having to pretend anymore.

But there would be time for that. That thought, actually, was the one that really took her breath away; after everything they'd done, everything they'd been through, the galaxy _was_ different. And in this new galaxy there would be time.

Tereis smiled, kissed her wife on the forehead, and went back to sleep.


	14. Red and Green, Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These last three chapters, as should become immediately apparent, take place at the end of the war between the Republic and the Empire. Since these events haven't yet been established by canon, I've made certain assumptions about how and when the conflict ends, so consider these chapters even more extra-canonical than everything else. Okay? Okay.

Varidia was trying to keep her guard up.

This was a delicate situation, and now was not the time to be sentimental. That was part of why she admired the military and the SIS forces who now surrounded her; while they might have lacked the Jedi's compassion, they understood all too well when it was necessary to put one's personal feelings aside and get the job done.

"Thank you for coming, Master Varidia," the agent escorting her inside said. He hadn't given his name, and she hadn't asked. "I understand your schedule must be busy these days, but you've had so much contact with the prisoner, command decided you were best suited to determine whether her defection was genuine."

"She surrendered on Ilum, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am. Walked into a top secret SIS listening post in full uniform and said she wanted to defect. She's been thoroughly searched for weapons and transmitters and she's been under constant guard ever since. Do you think she actually wants to help the Republic?"

Varidia slowed her brisk pace, frowning to herself. Her emotions were getting in the way again. She took a deep breath and did her best to think objectively as the dozens of encounters they'd had over the years flashed before her eyes.

"Agent Jainen's repeatedly proven that her first priority is to do what she believes is best for the people of the Empire. Given the increasingly erratic and tyrannical behavior of the surviving Sith, it's possible she's decided that the best way to help the people of the Empire is to remove the Sith from power and replace them with a stable civilian government as quickly as possible."

The agent paused. "Yes, ma'am, that's pretty much what she said." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and Varidia stiffened; who even knew what kinds of rumors about her had made their way through the intelligence community over the years. "Do you think we can trust her?"

Varidia pursed her lips, took a deep breath, and pleaded with herself not to let down her guard.

* * *

Jainen was trying to study.

Well, maybe trying was the wrong word; at this point it was all instinct, scanning for weak points in the security and structure of the room, weapons, escape routes, distractions. The results so far were...well, irrelevant, really. She wasn't planning on going anywhere.

The door slid open, admitting a sliver of light to the dark room, and she looked up to find the agent who'd been—not interrogating, nothing that extreme—liaising with her brandishing a keycard. He undid the restraints binding her to the table, and she stood. She wanted to rub the circulation back into her stiff wrists, but that would have been too cliched.

"You will be allowed limited access to low-security areas of the facility for the duration of your debriefing with SIS," the young man said. He was almost as nondescript as she was. She approved. "Once your debriefing is concluded, a decision will be made regarding your value as an intelligence asset and your future role within the Republic. The Republic is under no obligation to accept your offer nor does this debriefing exempt you from culpability for any crimes committed against the Republic. Do you understand and consent to this process?"

"I understand and consent."

"Good. Someone wants to speak with you."

Jainen followed the young agent out into the hallway, then onto the outdoor scaffolding that connected to the cliffside facility's landing platforms. She personally wouldn't have designated such an exposed vantage so close to where they docked their ships a 'low-security area,' but that was neither here nor there.

When she saw who was waiting for her by the railing, she had to stop herself from smirking. She wasn't surprised; she'd known what had caused the Republic's sudden reversal of trust as soon as the restraints had come off. As the agent excused himself, Jainen bowed.

"Master Jedi."

"Agent."

This time, Jainen didn't bother hiding her smirk. "I believe it's just Jainen, now."

Varidia smiled ever so slightly, then immediately banished the expression. "Don't make me regret this. Jainen."

Jainen kept smirking. "Have I ever?"

Varidia frowned. "No. I've always been...impressed by your professionalism. Your sense of duty, and your...compassion." Her eyes flicked up, softening so slightly that Jainen doubted anyone else would have been able to tell. "You would have made a magnificent Jedi," she murmured.

Jainen blinked. That was...a compliment she hadn't been prepared to receive. "I...thank you."

Varidia sucked in a breath. "Which is why I know you'll understand when I tell you we can never see one another again."

Jainen blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Varidia's eyes cut toward the horizon. Jainen didn't know the name of this planet, but it was green and rainy, not unlike the one she'd grown up on. The last planet that had reminded her of it like this had been Dromund Kaas, the last time her life had been turned upside down. "The SIS invited me here to determine whether you could be trusted. Because I've dealt with you before, and as a Jedi I'm objective. Except I'm not." Her eyes turned back to Jainen for just a moment. "I think you can be trusted. I think you can be redeemed. But I...I don't know whether my...personal feelings are clouding my judgment. And if I'm going to be a Jedi...I can't accept that."

Jainen frowned. "I'm not here because of you." It sounded a little too catty, even to her.

"I know."

"And I would never use the nature of our...past experiences against you."

"I know. But I would." Varidia let out a sigh, long, slender fingers gently tracing the railing. Jainen's mind unwittingly flashed back to their last encounter on Manaan, a complicated undercover operation of Jainen's that somehow ended with them falling into bed yet again. It was raining then just like it was raining now, and Jainen could almost taste Varidia's skin on her tongue. She shook her head.

"I don't regret it. Any of it. What I did for the Empire...or what we did."

Varidia pursed her lips. "Neither do I."

When nothing more was forthcoming, Jainen squared her shoulders. So that was it, then. The end. "Well. I...may the Force be with you, Master Jedi."

Varidia almost smiled, with her eyes if not with her mouth. "And with you."

Jainen nodded. Varidia nodded back. Their eyes held a little too long, and Varidia turned to face the horizon. Jainen allowed herself a moment to watch, the green woman silhouetted against the gray sky, then turned to walk back to her waiting handler.

There was no reason to be disappointed, Jainen told herself. The strange, borderline treasonous relationship the two of them had was a product of the war, after all. And the war was over.

Shaking her head, Jainen stepped forward into her new life, only ever so slightly tempted to glance back one more time at her old one.


	15. Yellow and Purple, Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These last three chapters, as should become immediately apparent, take place at the end of the war between the Republic and the Empire. Since these events haven't yet been established by canon, I've made certain assumptions about how and when the conflict ends, so consider these chapters even more extra-canonical than everything else. Okay? Okay.

Avarys was trying not to laugh.

She wasn't trying very hard, of course. Laughter was something that had eluded her for a long time now, and her current situation wasn't exactly funny, just bitterly ironic. She'd become one of the most powerful people in the Empire based on a single, white hot ambition: to never again be a slave. And now here she was at the end of her journey, sitting in a cell, in shackles, wearing rags. Everything she'd ever accomplished for nothing, and she didn't even care.

She'd gotten sloppy. The mad scrambling among the Sith as the Empire fell around them had been a disgrace, and she hadn't taken it seriously even as the last of her pawns and allies had fallen away. That was what allowed her captor to get the better of her.

She didn't even know who he was. Just some minor Sith Lord with more ambition than she had left, who wanted to make an example of her. Not that it would do much good, she took some small satisfaction in thinking; who could possibly be left who'd care?

That thought was still fresh in her mind when the stillness of the prison level was shattered by the report of a blaster—no, a lot of blasters—followed by the sound of the guard outside her cell slamming against the stone floor.

"Open the cells," someone shouted outside, so muffled she could just barely make out a woman's voice. When she did, something in the back of her head began to tingle. "Get everyone back to the ship. The commandos should have things wrapped up by now."

When the cell door slid open, Avarys winced as light suddenly flooded her eyes. When she adjusted to the glare and looked up, saw the wide-eyed shock on the face of her rescuer...

That was when she laughed.

* * *

Amathys Stormrider was trying to focus.

Technically they were still in danger. Technically, until the commandos gave the all clear, this was still enemy territory. Technically, it was worth considering the possibility that this was a trap.

But technically, her sister was also chained up in the dungeon of some Sith holdout's palace, chuckling.

"It would have to be you," Avarys muttered, shaking her head. "A quiet death would just be too much to ask for, wouldn't it?"

Amathys blinked. "What...I...what are you doing here?"

"Being tortured and executed, obviously." Despite the words, there was no venom in Avarys' voice. She just sounded...tired. "The real question is: what are you doing here?"

Amathys clenched her jaw. "Saving this planet. Do you have a problem with that?"

Avarys shook her head with a weary sigh. "And I suppose you think it's a coincidence, that you decided to come here, to liberate my fellow prisoners, on a whim? The Force called you here, you stupid girl." Avarys shook her head again. "All these years and you still won't listen."

Amathys pursed her lips. Seeing Avarys like this, after everything she'd said, everything she'd tried to do, should have felt...hell, she didn't even know. "And I'm supposed to believe you're just sitting in a cell waiting to die? The great Sith Lord, back to being in chains? Why would you do that?"

Avarys let out a long breath, finally looking up from her place on the dungeon floor. "When you become Sith, they tell you that true power comes from hate, and fear, and desire. What they don't tell you is what happens when that's gone. When there's nothing left for you to hate, or fear, or want, there's just...nothing." She met Amathys' eyes, her own cold and sunken and surrounded by veins and shadows that no amount of makeup could hide. "You're just empty."

Amathys swallowed. "Av..."

"Ammie," Avarys whispered, and Amathys almost dropped her gun in shock. Her sister shook her head softly. "There's no point."

Amathys tightened her grip on her blaster, raised it and sighted down the barrel. Avarys let her head fall. She actually flinched when the bolt melted through the chain binding her to the floor, then flinched again when Amathys reached down to undo the shackles on her wrists. "Av, come on, let's go."

"Don't," Avarys mumbled, fighting her sister's grip, but barely hard enough to even count.

"Shh, come on, Av, we're going. You're coming with me."

"Why are you doing this?" Avarys wasn't fighting anymore as Amathys pulled her to her feet: probably too tired even for that. Amathys shook her head sadly.

"Av...I never stopped wanting to come back for you. I got out. And...the only thing I've ever wanted is for you to get out too."

"There is no out," Avarys droned, swaying unsteadily on her feet. Stars, how had somehow so powerful gotten so drained? So...well, _empty_? "I am what I needed to become in order to survive. There's nothing to go back to."

"There's me." Amathys reached down for her sister's hand, guided it up to her cheek and the little scar that was once a slave brand like the one Avarys still carried. "Av, you're my sister. You don't ever have to be anything besides that."

Avarys' entire body slumped, and Amathys huffed gently as her sister collapsed into her arms. The weight drove them both to their knees, back to the floor of the cell. The shouting and blaster fire coming from outside had faded at some point; the battle was over.

"I can't cry," Avarys murmured against her shoulder.

"What?"

"I can't cry," Avarys choked out. "When did I stop being able to cry?"

Amathys stroked the back of her sister's head. Given how much stubble had grown on it, she must have been down in this dungeon for a few days. "Shh, it's okay."

"She was right," Avarys whispered. "You're the strong one. You...you've always been the strong one."

Amathys frowned. "I wasn't strong enough to save you."

Avarys pulled back far enough to smile, a brittle, battered, genuine smile. "You stupid girl. Of course you were." The smile faded. "What happens to me now? You came here with the Republic..."

"Don't worry about that. Just come with me."

Avarys shook her head softly, chidingly. Stars, Amathys hadn't seen that expression on her face since they were ten! "Ammie, it's not that simple. The things I've done...the Republic won't just let you bundle me off on your ship."

Amathys had to admit it was true. Actually, she probably didn't know half the horrible things her sister had done in the name of the Empire. But then, more importantly, she also didn't really give a damn.

Besides, with the war winding down, working with the Republic was getting boring. She needed to get back to her roots.

Amathys smiled confidently as she drew her sister back up to her feet. " Well you see Av, I don't know if you've heard...but I'm a smuggler."

Avarys blinked. Then she shook her head.

Then, very slowly, she began to laugh.

 

**...the end**


End file.
